Whisper and Hush
by MandaPanda2
Summary: Grief has two parts: loss and then the remaking of life. (Paraphrased from Anne Roiphe.)
1. Breezes That Blow

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
Rating: T  
Genre: Drama  
Spoilers: Everything through Episode 134, then it drifts into AU  
Summary: Grief has two parts: loss and then the remaking of life. (Paraphrased from Anne Roiphe.)

* * *

Chapter One: "Breezes That Blow"

 _January 12, 2017_

"What's that sigh for?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Liar."

"I'm an American driving a German car through the Italian countryside with my British wife as we listen to a Russian opera."

"There. Is that better?"

"Now, we're listening to an Irish singer."

" _What_ a time to be alive, darling."

* * *

 _January 25, 2017_

 _Casey_

He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. The jet engines roared and, as always, eventually subsided to a kind of white noise. It was there, but you got used to it. What other choice was there? What else could they do? _Walk_ back from Italy?

Automatically, without thinking, his gaze drifted over to Olivia. His stepmother sat on the other side of the narrow aisle, but the row of seats she was in faced him. The dark sunglasses hid her eyes and most of the bruises on her face. Not that it mattered. She wasn't looking at him. No, her gaze was to the tiny window and fixed to the bright sunshine reflected off the cloud banks they flew over. She was leaning onto her left side, her right arm cradled safely in the sling the Italian doctor set it in before she was discharged.

Next to her, Sean sat quietly. He was unshaven and, in that moment, he never looked more like their father. He frowned to himself. Had he ever even seen Gregory be anything but clean shaven? His lips parted as an involuntary sob rose in his throat. He couldn't…he couldn't remember. Everything was a blank. Every memory was a black hole in the face of the sudden grief. Quickly, he shook his head and cleared his throat as he pushed himself up. "I'm going to get a coffee," he said aloud, not that either of his travel companions even noticed he stood. "Want anything?"

Sean's vacant gaze flickered to him. His hollow eyes were still glazed over with an ice-cold numbness. It had been fourteen days, but it hadn't worn off yet. The grief. The shock. The pain. He slowly shook his head before he turned his eyes back up to the ceiling.

He reached across his younger brother and gently – carefully – touched Olivia's right knee. It was the closest part of her he could reach that wasn't injured in some way. "Olivia?" he asked, fearing his question would be lost to the drone of the jet engines.

A moment later, she shook her head. But, she said nothing. She didn't look at him. He nodded and stepped away, realizing he didn't expect more from her. As he walked up the center aisle to the small galley in the back of the jet, he didn't know _when_ to expect more.

Nothing was the same anymore.

Nothing.

* * *

 _January 12, 2017_

 _Sean_

"Delilah Ray Richards! _What_ are you doing?"

"Playing, Daddy."

He sighed deeply and bent down to his youngest daughter. The small girl was surrounded by stacks of books that towered precariously over her. He didn't need to look at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to know they were empty. No, he could clearly see his and Shasta's entire collection of books piled around his daughter. "Playing what?" he asked as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm playing _Beauty and the Beast_ , Daddy. Belle likes to read, so I'm playing in the library room that Beast gives her."

He couldn't help it. He melted. He didn't understand fathers who only wanted sons. His twin daughters had completed his life in ways he hadn't known possible. In a way, he could finally understand the relationship Dad had with Cait and Evy. He understood it in the way he played with his twin daughters. They were just _different_ than their brothers in every way. "Where's Hope?" he asked as he stood.

Delilah sighed far more dramatically than a child her age should know how to do. "She didn't want to play _Beauty and the Beast_. She wanted to play _Frozen_."

He chuckled and reached down into the piles, scooping up the little girl. "You know, don't you think Belle would've been friends with Elsa?" She cocked her head, her ringlets framing her face as she seriously considered his question. "She wouldn't have been afraid of Elsa the way other people were afraid. She wasn't afraid of Beast, right?"

Delilah grinned and nodded. "Right, Daddy!" She kissed his cheek even as she kicked her feet, a silent command to be put down. "I'm going to go make friends with Elsa!"

He chuckled to himself as she ran off, her feet pounding on the wood floor. As he turned back to the book piles, trying to remember his wife's overly-complicated method for organizing their book collection when the phone rang. He pulled the iPhone out of his back pocket and glanced at the screen. "Hey, Casey."

Silence.

Sean pressed the phone to his ear, trying to figure out if his brother pocket dialed him. The hum of static. The sound of waves. "Casey? You there?"

"Sean." His brother whispered his name, sounding as if he was hiding somewhere and didn't want to be discovered.

"You alright, man?"

"Sean, I-"

He chuckled, holding the phone between his left cheek and left shoulder as he reached down to scoop up an armful of books. Did she alphabetize them? No, that was too simple for his wife. Maybe by type? "God, Delilah took every book Shasta and I own and made herself a castle from the stacks. Shasta is going to flip when she-"

"Sean, something happened."

He pushed the books onto the shelf and clutched the phone in his right hand. "What's wrong? The kids?"

"No. No. Sean, it's G-Gregory. He-he-"

There's no way to prepare for death. But, in the end, it finds us all. In an instant, the way his lungs knew to breathe, Sean knew his father was dead. He heard it in the broken way his older brother stuttered, trying to find the words to explain. To make him understand what he knew. His legs gave way beneath him and he stumbled into the sofa, catching himself. "M-Mom?" he asked as he collapsed onto the arm and leaned over his knees. His head thundered, a million thoughts swirling in the numbness. "Is Mom…"

He heard Casey inhale sharply, almost as if he was relieved he didn't need to speak aloud what Sean was imagining. "She's hurt. Badly. She's in a hospital in Floren-"

"What _happened_?" he gasped, oxygen flooding lungs. It made him dizzy.

"It-it looks like a car accident. There was ice on the road and-"

His thoughts jumbled together and he involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut as the phantom sound of car brakes shrieked in his mind. "Did you call Cait?"

A split second of silence. "Should we call Charlie? I don't know if she-"

"I'll call him." He glanced down at his watch, struggling to see the face through the unshed tears. "Shasta will be home in less than an hour. I can get a flight to Italy tonight."

"I'll come with you. I can have Bette stay here with Harrison and Nicola."

"Is Mom- is she going to die too?" he whispered into the phone.

"I-I don't-"

He shook his head and stood, running a shaking hand through his dark blonde hair. "Evy."

Casey was silent for a long moment. "I-I'll call her."

He nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. "Jesus," he sighed, barely noticing as Delilah chased Hope around the sofa.

"You going to be ok until Shasta gets back?"

He chuckled ruefully as he gazed out the window. A moment later, his chuckle segued into a sob as he lowered his face. "Yeah. Call Evy."

"I'll call you back when I get my flight to Florence booked."

"Yeah," he sniffled, suddenly conscious of the fact that his twin daughters were standing silently next to him. The twins held hands as they solemnly gazed up at him. He wiped his eyes and forced a weak smile as he murmured, "I'll call you back too."

* * *

 _January 25, 2017_

 _Evy_

She folded her arms tightly over her chest as she leaned against Dad's car. It was breezy on the tarmac. A dry wind rolled across the runway, moaning ominously. She bit the corner of her lip as she brushed a flyaway piece of blonde hair behind her ear. There was a crackle of static and, a moment later, she felt the hulking presence of the TSA agent next to her. "The pilot just radioed the tower," she heard him say. "They'll be on the ground in less than five minutes."

With a vague nod, she turned her face up to the sky. The bright sun shone down, making her squint. She held up her hand, shading her face as her swollen eyes screamed in protest. She flopped back against the car as she forced her dry eyes to blink. She hadn't cried in two weeks. Not since she got back home. She cried every tear in her first-class seat as she flew back from New York after Casey called her. He and Sean didn't think she should make the trip to Florence. They thought it was better she be in Sunset Beach. They were worried about her, but they didn't want to say it. _Evy, I'll feel better knowing you'll be there for Harrison and Nicola._ She narrowed her eyes, her hand gripping involuntarily around Dad's key ring. Never mind that Diana arrived a few days after she did. Not Allie though. She stayed in Islamorada until closer to the funeral.

She glanced down, the words echoing through her. The funeral.

It was sickening that today should be a sunny day.

Dad was dead. Mom was hurt. Caitlin was a wreck.

But, the fucking sun was shining.

The birds were chirping.

The breeze was blowing.

The rest of the world kept spinning even as theirs ground to a screeching halt.

She inhaled sharply, ignoring the way the point of the house key dug into her palm. If Dad was here, he'd be on the golf course. Or, swimming laps in the pool. Or, looking at listings for Tuscan villas with Mom.

Something. _Anything_.

At the far runway, she watched the jet land with a graceful bump. They were home. Her throat tightened as she struggled to swallow past the boulder now permanently lodged there. Next to her, the TSA agent shifted back on his heels as he glanced up at her. "Sorry about your old man," he finally said and she looked up slowly. He shrugged and stroked his goatee as he continued, "My lady and I binged _Miscarriage of Justice_ in one day."

With a vague nod, she was suddenly grateful for the mirrored lenses of her aviators. That way, he couldn't see the way she rolled her eyes. The _last_ thing she wanted to do was listen to him wax poetic about the documentary series that made her father an Internet celebrity last winter. Dad _hated_ it. It drove him up the wall whenever she showed him the tweets and posts from strangers about him. It drove him nuts when random people would try to take a selfie with him.

"-do it?"

"What?" she asked, watching as the jet touched down on the far runway.

"Tony Dwyer. Your old man's client. Did he kill Kristen?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Attorney-client privilege, you know?"

"Right, right," he said seriously as the walkie-talkie mounted on his shoulder crackled. He turned away, talking into it as the jet slowly taxied into the hangar.

Evy pushed herself away from the car, her hair blowing like a dervish in the wind flow from the engines. She continued to grip Dad's key ring as the cabin door opened and the Customs crew boarded the jet. Slowly, as the engines slowed to a stop, other sounds were allowed in. The way the breeze howled between the hangars. The way the metal roof groaned in the heat from the sun. The way the TSA agent's walkie-talkie squawked and beeped. The way her brother's feet clomped down the jet's stairs.

Her stomach flipped, watching as Sean extended his hand, helping Mom off the jet. She shoved Dad's keys into the pocket of her shorts. Like a melting snowman in the winter sun, she felt her face crumble as she hurried across the pavement. Her sandals flopped against the ground in time with her pounding heart as she watched her mother. She seemed…smaller. Somehow. Mom was looking down at the ground as if she was worried about watching her step. But, she moved slower and she leaned against Sean. She saw Casey following behind them, carrying a small metal urn.

An urn.

That was all that was left of Dad.

Her throat swelled and she blinked away the tears suddenly burning her eyes. For her whole life, Dad was always taller than her. He towered over her. And now, all that was left of him was in Casey's arms. She sobbed aloud, her hands pressed over her mouth. It wasn't right. Her larger than life father was in an urn. A fucking urn.

"Mom," she cried, flinging her arms around her mother. Mom had spent the better part of the last two weeks – since the car accident – medicated in some Italian hospital. The few times Evy tried to speak with her on the phone, Mom uttered barely two words. Casey said it was shock, her head injury, and the sedatives. Now, she heard Mom gasp, a strangled gurgle that caused her to jump back in shock. Did she hurt her? She looked urgently at Sean, panic coursing through her veins.

"Easy, Evy," Sean said softly as Mom turned her face into her shoulder, her breathing raspy. "It's going to take a few weeks for her cracked ribs to heal."

"I'm sorry, Mom." She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, watching carefully as Mom looked up. Her sunglasses hid a lot, but not all, of the hideous rainbow of black, purple, and red on the right side of her face. Suddenly, she squeezed her eyes shut, tortured with a vision of her parents' rental car flipping down the Italian hillside.

"Evy."

She forced her eyes open, tears burning her eyes as she heard Mom say her name. With a sob, she gently returned to her mother's side and felt her left arm go around her. Two weeks of heartbreak and devastating sadness crested in the way she desperately cried into Mom's left shoulder.

Dad was dead.

The sun was shining.

The birds were chirping.

The breeze was blowing.

Dad was dead.


	2. Just Have One More

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Two: "Just Have One More"

 _January 27, 2017_

 _Allie_

She leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the quiet scene. Dad was sitting up on the island, a half-eaten banana in his hand. But, he stopped eating it. Maybe he'd forgotten he even started it. Instead, he was gazing vacantly into the corner at a patch of sunlight staining the tile floor.

Mom sat at the table, scrolling through her tablet and exuding the occasional irritated sigh. She watched her sigh and stretch her arms high overhead as she rolled her neck. Before Poppop died, she had been exhausted. She had been working ridiculous hours at the bakery, working hard to transition everything to Layla before they moved to California in a few months. But, after Dad left for Italy to get Nana, Mom came out here to be with Harrison and Nicola.

The rest of the family was scattered around the house, isolated into lonely pockets. The calm before tomorrow's storm. Poppop's funeral.

A shudder went through her and she gripped her coffee mug tighter, willing its warmth to spread to her. Harrison and Nicola were the quietest she'd ever seen them. She narrowed her eyes, glancing up at the photos stuck with magnets to the fridge. One picture of the two of them with Poppop on the boat jumped out at her. Her throat tightened as she thought about how close the three of them became the last few months. She felt bad now for teasing Harrison for how many pictures of him and Poppop on the golf course he sent her through Snap. It was stupid to admit she was jealous of her younger brother and sister. They got to know Poppop these last few months in a way she didn't.

"You know, he didn't even flinch."

Dad's voice echoed in the kitchen and her head whipped around to him. He was still holding the uneaten banana, but he was looking down at Mom. Slowly, she walked around the island as Mom turned around in her chair. "Who didn't flinch?" she heard Mom ask.

"Gregory." Dad's face was wrinkled in thought as he glanced between them. She cocked her head as she stood next to Mom. "When I called him and Olivia to tell him we were going to move back to Sunset Beach." It was something Dad started thinking about after they spent their first Christmas with Poppop and his family. In a way, she wasn't _really_ surprised. It was Dad's hometown. It was where he grew up. After Grandma died, he never went back to Sunset Beach. But, since learning the truth about who his father was, everything changed. Suddenly, Sunset Beach was a place he wanted to be again.

Mom smiled sadly and reached out, her hand brushing against his knee. "Why would he flinch? You said he was happy to hear the news."

Dad shook his head, tossing the banana aside. "Not then. When Olivia said it was ridiculous to waste our money on a rental house while ours was being built. When she told us we should stay here…Gregory didn't even flinch. He- he agreed with her."

Allie glanced down at her feet as a heavy silence stretched between them. She had a meltdown last spring when Dad and Mom announced they were all going to move to California. She didn't want to leave Islamorada and miss senior year with her friends. Her whole life had been leading up to senior year! A moment later, she felt her cheeks blush in shame as she remembered the way she screamed at Dad and told him he was ruining her life. The way his face fell and his blue eyes dulled over before he looked away.

"Of course, he agreed, honey. He loved you. He loved the kids."

So, Dad, Harrison, and Nicola moved to California in July. She and Mom stayed behind in Islamorada so she could finish senior year at her school. Mom said they needed to sell the house and turn over her bakery to the new owner. But, really, their family was separated because of _her_. She closed her eyes, remembering the way Dad hugged her to him after he and Mom announced their decision. _I don't want to ruin your life, Allie. I want you to have everything._

She nodded, blinking back tears. It wasn't fair. Poppop was dead and _just_ when Dad was getting to know him. Just when they were _all_ getting to know him. It. Wasn't. FAIR. _This_ was what a ruined life felt like – losing your father barely one year after you knew who he was. Not graduating high school with her friends was _nothing_ compared to how sad Dad was. Slowly, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his torso as she leaned against him. A moment later, she felt his arms around her, squeezing tight.

* * *

 _Caitlin_

"Is it good, Mom?"

She looked up and gently closed the folder. Greg stood next to the bed, watching her with a serious expression. He looked like Daddy. She stifled a sob as she nodded, blinking back tears. Her teenage son's face transformed from pensive uncertainty to bashful pride. He grinned, something he didn't often do since getting braces six months ago. "You did a wonderful job, sweetie," she said softly as he took the folder back.

He nodded, tucking the folder beneath his arm. "Mom, do you think- do you think Poppop would have liked it?"

 _Would have_ liked it.

Every ounce of her screamed internally, a horrified wail that consumed every one of her senses. Her brain just couldn't make sense – couldn't accept – that Daddy was now referred to in the _past_ tense. Like something that already happened. Something that was over. Something that would never come back. She nodded as she turned her face into her right shoulder, gulping back a sob.

"Greg," she heard her husband say as she wiped her face and sucked air into her aching throat, "Poppop would be _so_ proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Why don't you go check on your brother and sister? I think Mom needs to rest."

A moment later, she heard the bedroom door close and she felt Charlie's hand on her thigh. "Cait," he sighed as she leaned into him, his arms tight around her.

She turned her face into his neck, hot tears burning down her face. "I can't do this," she sobbed. She looked up abruptly, shaking her head as she sniffled. "I'm a mess! I'm falling apart in front of our children."

"Hey, hey. You're not a mess." She signed as he smoothed down her hair. "Greg's old enough to understand why you're upset."

She shook her head, feeling warmth and strength exuding from his palms as he cupped her face. "I'm not ready for tomorrow," she confessed, blinking her swollen eyes.

He sighed deeply and watched her for a long moment. "I know."

"I-" she gasped, "I don't think _any_ of us are." Charlie only nodded a second time, his fingers brushing against her right lobe. She sighed, her breath shaky as she reached for his hands. As their fingers threaded together, she leaned back into the pillows. The entwined hands rested on her pregnant stomach as she forced her unsteady breathing to even out. She was almost the same age Mom was when she was pregnant with Evy. However, her own pregnancy was far more perilous than her mother's last one had been.

Mom.

She closed her eyes, feeling her fourth child move within her as she thought of her mother. The Italian doctor had sent her mother home with a bottle of painkillers that left her in a near catatonic state. And, the sound of her breathing. She flinched, remembering the underlying wheeze which came with every breath she took.

"She's fine, Cait."

She opened her eyes, watching him carefully. Of course, he knew what she was thinking. Of course, he could read every thought that blossomed on her face. Slowly, she shook her head even as she felt the firm squeeze of his hands. "I want this to be a nightmare," she whispered, feeling her eyes well again. "I want to wake up." Her husband nodded, but said nothing. She sighed, feeling her throat tighten. His stoic expression and strength were things she had relied upon frequently these last few weeks. "I want Daddy to be alive. I want Mom to be healed."

"I know."

But, it didn't matter.

Wishing couldn't make it so. Nothing could.

* * *

 _Bette_

She gently placed the teacup on the saucer and set it on the nightstand. The sound of Olivia's raspy breathing filled the silence and she reached out, smoothing the quilt over her sleeping friend. She barely moved though. Thank the drugs for that, she thought to herself as she gently plumped the pillows. She sighed deeply, her eyes moving over the cuts and bruises on the right side of Olivia's face. "Aye aye aye," she said softly as she sat back down in the chair.

Casey was in a near panic when he called her. And the news…what _horrible_ news. She sighed and closed her eyes, remembering the way he hugged her when she got to the house. Cried into her shoulder. He had loved Gregory. Truly.

 _"So?"_

 _"What's that for? That 'so'?"_

 _She sighed and leaned in conspiratorially. "Casey. Having Casey and his kids living with you. So, how is it?"_

 _Olivia looked truly surprised. "Oh." She shrugged and brushed her hair over her shoulder as she glanced up at the house. When she turned back around, she saw the small smile on her face. "Gregory's happy they're here."_

 _"And you?"_

 _"I'm happy Gregory's happy," she replied as she raised the coffee mug to her mouth. She took a deep sip and sighed as she leaned back in the patio chair. "He's a part of the family. I want him to know Gregory. The_ _real_ _Gregory."_

 _"And?" she asked, hating when Olivia forced her to coax the gossip from her._

 _"Well, I don't know. I suppose it's funny to think Gregory and I have another child living at home when Evy's getting ready to leave for university in two weeks."_

 _She snorted and raised her mug. "You and Greggy are denied the chance to be empty nesters."_

 _"I suppose we'll just have to settle for a holiday home in Tuscany."_

She wiped her eyes as she sadly shook her head. It was _her_ fault Olivia and Gregory had gone to Florence this last time. She had done _too_ good a job of talking her friend out of the villa they found in October. She had teased her when she saw the listing and said Gregory's money could do better. So, Olivia coaxed Gregory into rescinding the offer they made and told him they were going back after the holidays to look at more properties. They wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for her and her big mouth.

She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look at Olivia's bruised face. At the pillows propping up her right arm. At the way her eyes fluttered open and she groaned softly. "Livy?" she asked, standing quickly. Her hand slipped into Olivia's left one as she sat on the mattress next to her. "Livy?"

"O-one more," she murmured, her words slurred.

She reached out, the back of her hand gently running over her left cheek. "One more what, Livy?"

"Just…just have one…more," she sighed, her blue irises flashing before her eye lids fell shut.

She frowned, watching the way Olivia's lips curled and she breathed one last word. She didn't need to hear her friend's wheeze to know what she was saying. She had known her since 1974. She knew _exactly_ what Olivia looked like when she said her husband's name. She cupped her face and leaned in, whispering, "Go back to sleep, Livy. Go back to sleep."

Sean told her that when he and Casey got to the hospital in Florence, they had to tell her Gregory was gone. For the _second_ time. She closed her eyes, remembering the way Sean's devastated voice crackled across the phone line. _The doctors said they told her, Bette. Before we got here. They had to. S-She kept asking f-for Dad. But, when Casey and I got here, she woke up and wanted to know were Dad was. Like-like she didn't know he was…"_

It was her fault they were in Florence.

It was her fault Gregory was dead.

* * *

 _Shasta_

She rested her head against the wall as she watched the bed. Tanner was sandwiched between Hope and Delilah, somehow holding onto each of their hands as the three of them napped. They breathed deeply and their chests rose and fell in near synchronicity as they slept in Sean's childhood bedroom. A wistful smile came to her face, remembering how Olivia still referred to the rooms by her children's name. Caity's room. Sean's room. They were both grown and with families of their own. But, when they came home to Sunset Beach, each of them ended up in the room they slept in as children.

Behind her, the door opened and she whipped around, holding her index finger to her lips. It was a nightmare getting the three of them to take their naps. Once she got them to sleep, she'd do _whatever_ it took to keep them that way. Sean nodded and quietly closed the door, stopping next to her. Despite the beard, she saw the way his throat worked when he looked at their three sleeping children. She took his hand and tugged it gently, leading him to the balcony doors.

The sunshine warmly greeted them as they stepped out and he closed the door to the bedroom. With a sigh, she reached out, wrapping her arms around him. A moment later, she felt his arms enfold her and she heard the way he sighed deeply. She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the way she walked into their home two weeks ago, juggling Tanner on her hip and two filled-to-the-brim canvas shopping bags. The way she stopped instantly in the foyer. Because she _felt_ it. She felt something was _wrong_. The house – which was clearly the domain of their four children – was eerily silent. No sound of cartoons. No animated beeping from the tablet. No feet thundering across the wood floor.

It was the _worst_ sound. The heavy and ominous silence.

She looked up and blinked, coming back to the present as the comforting roar of the ocean reached them. "Penny?" she asked, draping her arms around his neck.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. "I can't think anymore," he sighed. She flinched at the flat and empty tone of his voice. "My brain hurts."

Gently, she nudged his chin up and pressed her lips to his. She felt him sigh again before he pulled back. "I can't. There's so much-"

Her heart sank, watching as he turned away and shook his ahead. A moment later, he leaned against the railing and lowered his face. He had been going non-stop for two weeks. Since Casey had called him. Hadn't slept. Barely ate. Didn't shave. He was making himself sick. With a quiet inhale, she pressed against his back and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "It's ok, Sean. It's ok to stop. It's ok to…hurt." She felt him tremble and squeezed him tighter. From what she knew from Olivia, Sean was just like Gregory. That's why they often ran aground with each other.

Despite their differences though, Sean loved his father. Deeply.

"I-" she heard him gasp, choking back a sob, "I don't know how…"

"Together," she sighed, her right cheek pressed against his back. "Together."


	3. You're Never Alone

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Three: "You're Never Alone"

 _Diana_

She blinked back tears, watching as Harrison and Greg took turns delivering the eulogy they wrote for their grandfather. The two boys had become fast friends since they met a year ago and learned they were cousins. In a way, it didn't surprise her when they _both_ volunteered to give the eulogy. Together.

She softly closed her eyes, remembering the way each of Gregory's four children confessed they didn't think they could make it through delivering the eulogy. The way Allie paled and shrank into herself when the priest suggested the oldest grandchild could deliver it. Her daughter was headstrong and opinionated, but she was _terrified_ of speaking in public.

She opened her eyes and glanced over to her left. Olivia sat between her and Casey, leaning against him. She could tell the older woman wasn't on any pain killers today. She could see it in the way her blue eyes were brighter and more focused than they had been the last two days. In the way she shifted every few moments, unable to find comfort in the face of her fractured scapula and cracked ribs.

Nicola nestled against her right side and she hugged her closer, resting her chin on her head. She listened as the boys described their relationship with their grandfather. In a way, as hard as it was to live apart from Casey and their two youngest children, she was grateful the three of them had the last few months with Gregory. Living with him and Olivia since July gave them irreplaceable memories. They just should have had _more_ time with him.

"-and once we passed the ninth hole, Poppop would let us drive the golf cart," she heard Greg say.

"He just made us promise _not_ to tell Nana," Harrison added, causing laughter and chuckles to ripple through the church.

 _"Harrison and Nicola started calling Olivia 'Nana'."_

 _She balanced her cell phone between her ear and her right shoulder. In a way, she_ _wasn't_ _surprised. They had been living with Olivia and Gregory for the last month. "How does that make you feel?" she asked as she pulled a tray of chocolate croissant from the oven._

 _Casey was quiet for a long moment before he sighed deeply. "I'm ok with it," he admitted. She smiled to herself as she heard him continue, "I mean, I can tell she loves them. She doesn't treat them any different than she treats Cait and Sean's kids." She nodded, silently agreeing, as he concluded, "She's not replacing Mom."_

 _"Alex is still 'Grandma'. They_ _all_ _know that."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"And, honestly, at the end of the day, our kids can never have too many people who love them."_

She felt Nicola move as the pre-teen looked up. "I got to drive the golf cart too even though I didn't play like Harrison and Greg," she whispered. With a soft smile, she nodded and drew her daughter back into her embrace.

* * *

 _Evy_

She shifted slightly, desperately wanting to pull her hand back. Some guy – David Something-or-Other – was gripping her right hand and squeezing it tightly as he continued to shake it as he talked. He was just like all the others. Everyone who came to Dad's funeral at St. Philip's. Everyone who migrated over to the country club for the after-party. "

(She immediately heard her sister's voice in her head to correct her. _It's_ _not_ _a party, Evy. It's called a_ _repast_ _._ Whatever, Cait. It certainly _felt_ like a party.)

The guests all took their turns grabbing her right hand and squeezing the hell out of it as they apologized for Dad's death. Like they caused it or something. Then, they invariably shared some story about Dad. Whether it happened 40 years ago or four months ago, it didn't matter. They _had_ to tell her. They _had_ to share this memory of Dad with her. And, they just felt the need to _crush_ her right hand into oblivion as they did it.

Did _anyone_ care about the way her right hand throbbed from being squeezed and pulled all morning?

She sighed, feeling the way she nodded as David Something-or-Other laughed at his own story. She forced a half-chuckle out of her mouth, even though she had no idea what she was laughing at. David Something-or-Other's laughter trailed off and she seized the brief lull in the conversation. "Thank you very much for being here today," she said, parroting the phrase she'd been repeating to most everyone who stopped to speak to her. "My family appreciates it." Before he could open his mouth to reply, she pulled her aching hand back and forced a polite smile before she turned away.

She needed to get the _hell_ out of here.

The sound of the conversations around her seemed magnified as she hurried through the ballroom, forcing her eyes to the ground so she didn't make eye contact with anyone. Her black dress whistled against her as she moved and she cupped her right hand protectively in her left one. As she stepped through the doors and into the somewhat empty hallway, she exhaled deeply. Her ears rang and her skin crawled, coated with a fine layer of icy sweat. She blinked, seeing one of the standing bars with two stools tucked into the corner. With a shaky inhale, she walked over to it and swallowed deeply. "Can I have a glass of ice?" she asked softly as she climbed onto the stool. Gently, she lay her right hand on the surface and lowered her forehead to her left hand. "And, a glass of scotch."

"On the rocks?"

She glanced up and nodded. "One ice cube." That's how Dad usually drank it. _Used to drink it_ , her brain urgently insisted. She rolled her eyes and sat up, straightening her shoulders. The bartender put the glass of ice in front of her and she nudged her aching right hand around it. She hissed as the freezing cold ice tempered the flames shooting up from the muscles and tendons of her palm.

"Evy?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the deep voice from behind. For God's sake! _Watch out, Blondie_ , she remembered Bette saying. _You're_ _never_ _alone at a funeral._ Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned slightly, looking over her right shoulder. She blinked, feeling a spark of familiarity in the face of the young guy staring back at her. Was he Dad's intern from a few summers ago?

The stranger looked back at her and she saw a bashful smile creep across his face. His brown eyes lit up as he said, "You don't remember me. Do you?"

"I-"

"Benjy. Benjy Evans."

Her lips parted as she gaped. "Hiiiii," she said slowly as her mind raced. Benjy Evans. When was the last time she had seen him? He lived with his mother in Monterey. Over the years, she had occasionally crossed paths with him at Christmas and in the summer when he was in town to visit his father.

He chuckled nervously and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. "It's pretty rough catching up with you at a time like this." Their eyes met as she heard him say softly, "I'm sorry about your dad."

"Your scotch, miss."

She glanced over at the bartender before she quickly turned back to Benjy. "Thanks," she sighed.

He looked at the empty bar stool to her right. "Mind if I join you?"

 _You're never alone._ She shook her head and turned back around. "You aren't going to tell me some rambling story about a conversation you and my dad had 15 years ago, are you?"

"You kidding? Your father scared the _shit_ out of me," he retorted. "No way could I have managed a conversation with him." He said it so quickly and so matter-of-factly that she couldn't help but laugh as she sipped the scotch. The liquor immediately warmed her throat and she felt herself start to relax as the feeling spread to her chest. He glanced up, amused as he chuckled. "Too soon?"

"No." She sighed into the well of the glass, watching the dark amber liquid for a long moment. "No, it's fine." Their eyes met as she explained, "It's odd to be the keeper of all these memories about Dad people insist on telling me."

He nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It was the same when my abuelita died a few years ago." He sighed deeply and shrugged. "I think- I think they think it _helps_ when we hear their memories. Like, it helps to keep them alive when we hear the stories."

She nodded, sitting in thoughtful silence as he ordered a drink from the bartender. Except Dad wasn't alive. No amount of memories would _ever_ make that so. "Maybe," she mused when he looked back at her. "I could do without the bruising handshakes."

He frowned and looked down at her hand molded to the glass of ice. "Yeah, I bet."

"Did you come down just for the funer- _today_ or are you staying with your dad for a bit?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

"Actually, I live here now. I moved to town just before Christmas."

"Oh." Before Christmas. When she was in New York City finishing up the fall semester of her freshman year. When Dad was alive and calling her every afternoon. When Mom was going to the max with buying Christmas presents for everyone. "For good?"

"For a little while anyway." He smiled and she thought she saw a flash of his father, Ben, in it. "I graduated in December. I'm going to work with Dad while I study for the LSAT. I'm taking it in October."

She nodded as she took a deeper sip of the scotch. As she opened her mouth to reply, she heard an odd sound coming from the ballroom. She heard…singing. She felt Benjy follow her gaze as she frowned and pushed herself off the stool.

Singing?

SINGING?

What the hell was wrong with people?

* * *

 _Casey_

He stood behind Olivia, feeling something of a guard. His hands tightened on the top of the armchair she sat in, watching as the line of people waiting to talk with her only grew. She had stood for the first hour or so, somewhat insistently before he had one of the waiters find her a comfortable chair. Bette's whispered words as they left the house to go to the church echoed in his mind as he looked down at his stepmother's head. _She only took half a painkiller this morning, Muscles. She said she didn't want to be a zombie at Greggy's funeral._

As the current person offering their condolences stood to leave, he knelt on her left side. "Are you ok?" he asked. She nodded, shifting slightly in the chair as she leaned forward and exhaled. "Need anything? Tea? Water? A pain killer?"

Olivia glanced up, her eyes glinting with pain as she watched him for a long moment. "Not yet," she replied softly, awkwardly patting his hand with her left one.

He nodded and stood taller, gesturing the next person in line to come forward. As they did, he heard a familiar voice say his name. He looked over, seeing Meg standing a few feet away. He smiled and held up his hand, index finger extended as he turned away. "Bette?" The older woman looked over and nodded, taking his place behind Olivia's chair as he went to Meg. He hugged his friend, never remembering how much shorter than him she was until she was in his embrace. "I saw you and Ben at the church, but-"

"It's ok," she said as she pulled back, a sad smile on her face. "There were so many people, I knew I wouldn't have a chance to talk to you there."

He nodded and glanced around. The country club made their largest ballroom available when they learned that was where the family wanted to have the gathering after the funeral. Like the church, the room was practically filled to capacity as people moved through the buffet line, chatted with each other, or stood in line to offer their condolences to Olivia. It was a testament to Gregory that so many people attended his funeral. He had been respected in the legal and business communities. "Gregory- Gregory meant a lot to many people."

With a wistful smile, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "He meant a lot to _you_ ," she said softly. Even as he nodded, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. With another squeeze, she smiled brightly and mercifully changed the subject. "I was just catching up with Diana. It'll be great when she and Allie move out here in a few months."

"That's the plan," he sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead as he glanced back at Olivia. She was still sitting in the chair, nodding at the woman she was listening to. But, he saw the painful tension that furrowed in her brow. In the way she leaned into her left side. In the way she bit the corner of her lip.

He felt Meg touch his arm as she said, "I don't want to keep you." He turned back to her, an apology rising in his throat as she continued, "It's ok. We'll talk when things settle down." She reached out, hugging him quickly, as she said, "Just know that Ben and I are thinking about you." He nodded, sighing. "Speaking of Ben, I need to find him. He went looking for Benjy so we could leave."

"Benjy. Right. How's that working out?"

She smiled tightly and blinked. "That's a topic for another day _entirely_."

He nodded as the sound of singing echoed in the ballroom. They turned, open-mouthed surprise transforming their faces, as they watched the small circle around Sean, Caitlin, and Charlie expand. Slowly, as if almost unsure what to do, the crowd began to sing along. He chuckled as he rubbed his face, ignoring the questioning look Meg gave him. She shrugged with a confused smile as he saw Evy walk back into the ballroom, followed by Benjy Evans. "Hey, there's Benjy," he said to her, squeezing her shoulder quickly before he stepped away.

As he neared Evy, he saw her wipe tears from her eyes. Her lips mouthed the lyrics as her expression twisted, her right hand resting over her heart. She looked up when she saw him at her side and leaned into his chest. "You know," he whispered in her ear, coaxing her chin up, "Gregory would've loved this."

She nodded and inhaled deeply as she wiped her cheeks dry. "Yeah," she sighed, her voice shaky as the chorus of singing voices swelled. He took her left hand as they walked over to join their siblings.

* * *

 _Charlie_

They could breathe at the country club.

If the funeral at the church was the culmination of two weeks of grief and pain, then the club was the release. He saw it in Caitlin's face. As they walked into the ballroom, he saw a lightness in her expression that had been absent since her father's death. Not being able to have the funeral until Casey and Sean brought Gregory's remains and Olivia back from Italy certainly didn't help. Waiting for them was more than understandable. But, the waiting meant they had all existed in a bizarre state of limbo the last few weeks. Stuck in between the shock and the struggle to learn to live in a world without Gregory.

But now, the funeral was over.

He wasn't very religious, but he thought there _might_ have been truth in the words the priest spoke. _Think not of the sadness you feel now. Remember a time when Gregory made you smile. When he made you laugh. When he was there. Remember the good._ He heard it in the way Blake said in the limousine as they drove over to the ballroom, "I remember when Poppop told me stories. I liked them. He told good stories." He saw it in the way his wife looked over, her blank expression transforming into one of joy. He heard it in the way she chuckled softly and nuzzled their daughter against her as she said, "You're right, sweetie. Poppop _always_ told the _best_ stories."

Now, his wife was surrounded by her childhood friends and he could breathe easy. She was going to be ok. It would take time, but they _all_ would be. He glanced around, watching his children scattered around the room, chasing their cousins through the maze of tables. An admonishment rose in his throat before he shook his head. Fuck it. Let them play and run around the ballroom. The last two weeks had been hard on them too. Blake and Sean's twin girls had the roughest time. How do you easily explain death to children? They didn't understand that their grandfather was gone _forever_. How do you easily explain to them to not be afraid of the bruises on their grandmother's face?

"Man, you remember that _killer_ party your dad threw for Game 6 of the Series in '96?"

He glanced up. Caitlin and Sean were close enough in age that their circle of friends seemingly overlapped. The two groups of friends blended to one as they conquered one corner of the ballroom while the condolence sharing had shifted into reminiscing. He watched as Sean chuckled and took a deep sip of his beer. "Hell yes," he replied, grinning. "Booked up the whole restaurant and brought in all those big screen televisions so we could watch the game."

"Man, your dad went _all_ out that night," another one of Sean's friends piped up. "Best party I ever went to and I'm not even a baseball fan."

"You're lucky he didn't hear you say that back then! He might've thrown you out!"

Caitlin chuckled, rubbing her stomach. "He insisted I come back from UCLA that night to be there when – not _if_ – the Yankees won." She glanced over at him and explained with a smile, "I think we celebrated until almost two a.m."

Sean exclaimed, "He knew though! He was _so_ confident they were going to win and-"

"-win at _home_!" he and Caitlin continued in unison. He watched as their eyes met, matching smiles on their faces.

An odd look came over Sean's face as he put his bottle down. With a smile, he sang softly, " _Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today_."

He and the rest of the group chuckled and he saw his wife's eyes widen even as a grin spread across her face. "Sean!" she playfully admonished with a laugh.

But, he got where Sean was going with this.

" _I want to be a part of it_ ," he sang aloud, his deep tenor voice joining in with Sean's, " _New York, New York_."

Sean smirked and continued to sing the song as the group of friends circled around them. He could see the confusion mixed with amusement in their expressions. They _obviously_ weren't devoted baseball fans. He grew up a Giants fan and Gregory _never_ failed to give him grief about his struggling team. His tribe of fans had Journey songs to belt out at the ball games. Yankees fans? They had "New York, New York". The granddaddy of all songs celebrating the city they played in. He went over to his wife and took her hand, pulling her with him as they stood next to her brother. Her cheeks flushed and she laughed, pressing herself against him as far as her stomach would allow. "Thanks, honey," she whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand tightly.

He kissed her forehead as Sean threw his arm around his sister's shoulders. " _I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep_ ," they sang and his heart leapt when he heard his wife laugh her way through the lyrics. It was the first time he'd heard that sound in weeks. Sean's voice rang with enthusiasm and Charlie noticed the rest of the ballroom slowly turn attention to their corner. " _And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap!_ "

After a moment, he heard it. One-by-one, other people began to join in with them. Slowly, a ringing chorus echoed in the ballroom, drowning out whatever conversations were remaining. But, maybe, just _maybe_ this was what they all needed, he thought to himself as he watched Casey and Evy come through the crowd. He felt a pang, seeing the fresh heartbreak on his young sister-in-law's face as she made her way over. Slowly, he stepped back as he watched Caitlin embrace her tightly as they continued to sing. She cupped her sister's face and smoothed back her hair before she affectionately chucked her chin. As always, it merited a smile from Evy even as Sean wrapped his arms around his younger sister from behind and kissed her cheek. Caitlin reached out, leaning into Casey as he rested his chin on her head.

He stood next to Shasta, who flashed him a small smile, as seemingly the entire room sang, " _If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere!_ "He watched as the four siblings stood together in the center of the crowd, their arms around each other. Their laughter mixed in with the song as they threw their heads back, singing their hearts out. " _It's up to you, New York, New York!_ "

Singing for their father.

* * *

 _Bette_

She came back to the armchair and grimaced as she crouched next to Olivia's left side. Ugh, her knees could not take this in her old age! "It's the kids, Livy. The kids. They're the ones who started singing."

Olivia's eyes narrowed as she nodded, shifting her body weight onto her left hip. "Sean," she heard her say and she strained to hear her soft voice over the singing. "It was probably Sean."

She nodded, squeezing her left hand. "They're all together though," she said, looking into her eyes. "The four of them."

With a small nod, she saw the shadow of a smile wash across her friend's face. Her lips parted even as she saw her throat work. "The four of them," she repeated softly, her eyes fluttering shut as she winced and her face paled.

She glanced up, relieved to see that the seemingly never-ending line of people waiting to talk to Olivia had diminished as they joined the singing crowd. "Livy," she began, reaching for a glass of water on the table next to them, "take another pill. _Please_! Greggy wouldn't want you sitting here in pain."

"Only half," she insisted as she opened her eyes and turned up her left palm expectantly. As she gasped and began to gather steam for an objection, she heard Olivia continue, "I _need_ to remember this, Bette, and I can't if I'm drugged."

With a sigh, she nodded and reached into her purse, pulling out the prescription bottle. She found the other half of the pill she snapped in half that morning and placed it in Olivia's palm. She watched her take the pill and then reach for the water glass. "Keep drinking," she said, feeling something like a nurse mother. As her friend glanced back up, she said, "Last thing we need to have happen is to have you dehydrate yourself."

With a slightly irritated expression, Olivia took another placating sip. But, a moment later, she leaned into the left corner of the cushioned armchair and closed her eyes. She sighed and took back the glass, watching her friend sigh and the way her lips moved. But, she couldn't hear what she said over the singing. "What was that, Livy?"

Her eyes opened slightly as she repeated, her voice tight, "He should be here."

"I know," she sighed, rubbing Olivia's thigh. "I know."

* * *

 _A/N: Lyrics are from "Theme from 'New York, New York'" (composed by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb)._


	4. Morning Has Come

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Four: "Morning Has Come"

 _Caitlin_

"I feel like I should stay," she said, glancing around. Sean nodded and leaned forward. She knew he felt the same way she did. They couldn't leave Mom. Not now.

"But, Cait," Evy began, "the baby-"

She sighed, rubbing her stomach. "I've got high blood pressure. Mom had the same problem when she was pregnant with Sean. I don't need to be in Sebastapol to keep it under control. I can do that from here."

"Mom was like 24 when she was pregnant with Sean," her younger sister retorted and she couldn't help the flush of irritation which went through her. Evy was _just_ like Dad. They were always convinced they were right. "You're almost 41."

"Oh? Is that how old I am? Thanks for the reminder!"

"Ok," Casey said, interrupting the deep inhale Evy took. "Everyone relax." She sighed deeply and folded her hands on top of her stomach as he continued, "Evy, I get what you're saying. But, Cait, I understand how you feel."

She ignored the way Evy glared at Casey as she said, "Thank you."

"But, I think you should leave with Charlie later this morning as you planned." She frowned and sat up, resting her forearms on the table. "You too, Sean."

"Casey-"

"And, Evy too." She glanced around the kitchen table as her older brother sighed and rubbed his face. "We need…to get back to normal," he said quietly.

"What the hell is normal?" Evy muttered as she sank in her chair and folded her arms against her chest. "Honestly. What does that even mean?"

Her quiet question echoed in the kitchen, the early morning sunshine filtering in through the skylights. She glanced over, watching the hard expression on Sean's face as he wrapped both of his hands around his mug. With a sigh, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm, "So, that's it?"

* * *

 _Evy_

She felt her eyebrows bending together as she looked across the table. Casey looked up at Caitlin, his bewildered expression suggesting unending exhaustion. "There's nothing more you can do for Olivia," he said softly. "Sean and I both heard the doctor in Italy. Her ribs will heal on their own. Same with her shoulder. Icing and medication will help with the pain."

She grimaced, listening as Sean cleared his throat and said, "He's right. That's what she said."

Caitlin sighed deeply. "She…she got through yesterday."

"The funeral," she said insistently. She felt their eyes on her and she sat up. "She got through Dad's _funeral_."

"I know what yesterday was, Evy." She watched her sister brush her long hair back and lean forward, resting her head in her hands.

God.

Slowly, she reached out and nudged her sister's left elbow. "Sorry," she whispered. Her sister looked through her fingers, watching her for a heartbeat before she lowered her hands. Their hands slipped together and she felt Caitlin's gentle squeeze. "I-I just- don't want to leave her," she admitted, a sob rising in her throat. "Mom is-"

Mom is all we have left.

"Evy, she's going to be fine," she heard Sean say as she quickly wiped at her eyes with her right hand. "It'll take a few weeks but-"

"I don't mean her body, Sean!" she said loudly, wincing at the way her voice carried. She sighed and exclaimed, "She's going to be alone!" She felt her sister squeeze her hand again as she repeated, "Alone!"

"DON'T YOU THINK WE KNOW THAT?"

* * *

 _Sean_

He exhaled roughly, watching as both his sisters flinched. Casey sat still, his hands folded in front of his mug. "I was there Evy!" he hissed, watching as her brown eyes widened. "I was the one who held her hand when she woke up in the hospital!"

"Sean-"

" _I_ was the one who had to tell her Dad was dead!" He faltered, remembering the way his mother's eyes wrinkled in confusion. The way her face fell as she slowly shook her head. The way her strangled cry filled the room as it rose to a gut-wrenching sob. He breathed hard as he shoved his chair back from the table and turned away. His chest tightened as a high-pitched ringing echoed in his ears, rising with the memory of the way his mother cried. A moment later, the sound of his sister's crying joined the devastating symphony composed in his head.

But, Mom's crying? The way she cried in the hospital was imprinted in his memory. In his soul. He would be tortured with that sound until the day he died.

He leaned over his knees, his head pounding as he heard Evy choke back a sob. "I think you made your point, Sean," he heard Caitlin say.

He closed his eyes as the four of them sat in silence. He didn't have a fucking point to make! Didn't they get that? His only reply was to exhale deeply, feeling the way his shaky breath filled his chest. "Olivia isn't going to be alone," he heard Casey say. "She's got…us."

With another, more steadying sigh, he pressed his fingers into his temples. "Casey…man," he began with a deep inhale, "I- _we_ can't ask you to do that."

* * *

 _Casey_

He frowned. He saw Caitlin wore a similar expression as Evy blew her nose into a paper napkin. "Can't ask me to do what?"

Sean sat up, his eyes dull. "Take on our mother."

He exhaled and leaned back, rubbing his chin. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his brother's mouth. They were back to this? "Sean, stop," he heard Caitlin say. "You're upset. You're not thinking-"

"I know exactly what I'm thinking," he retorted. Evy just sat still, gazing forlornly at her half-full mug of coffee. "It isn't fair to Casey to make him take care of Mom and-"

"A year ago," he began quietly, cutting off his brother, "Olivia told me I was a part of this family." Caitlin glanced over. Evy's eyes turned up. Sean sighed deeply and pushed himself up. "I didn't believe her. Didn't believe she could _mean_ it. But, she did and, in time, I came to believe it." Very slowly, he lay his hands down and pressed his palms into the kitchen table. "We're family. And, I _don't_ walk out on my family."

Caitlin's sad smile was a balm to his soul as a heavy silence swirled between the four of them. "Casey," he heard his brother say, "I'm sorry for-"

"I know you are," he said firmly. "I know you didn't mean it. I know none of us have meant _any_ of what we said this morning." Slowly, Evy nodded and sat up straighter. "Olivia won't be alone because I'll be here. So will Harrison and Nicola. So will Bette. We'll take care of her."

"But-" Evy began.

He leaned in, watching her closely as he said, "You – all of you – are just going to be a phone call or FaceTime away." His youngest sister frowned and he said softly, "She's going to be ok, Evy. I promise." He looked up, catching Caitlin and Sean's eyes. "I won't let anything happen to her."

* * *

 _Nicola_

She rubbed her eyes as she walked down the back staircase, clutching her book to her chest. Her younger cousins were running up and down the stairs between the second and third floors. She loved them tons, but they were so _loud_ in the morning. Harrison said he'd been sleeping with his earbuds in since they arrived a few days ago. Her stomach grumbled and she stifled a yawn, trying to decide if she wanted waffles or scrambled eggs. Or, maybe both. Rose was a great cook, but she missed the way Mom would make her scrambled eggs with cheese. When Rose did it, it just wasn't the same.

As she neared the kitchen, she heard voices and she stopped, holding onto the bannister. A moment later, she heard Uncle Sean shout, "DON'T YOU THINK WE KNOW THAT?"

She froze, her eyes wide as he continued to yell. She lowered her head, her blonde hair falling around her face like a curtain. Everyone was upset. They had been since Poppop died. She felt her stomach start to hurt as she heard someone crying. That's all it had been the last few days. Crying and shouting. Whispers and hushed conversations. Aunt Evy was the first to come home and she had never seen her so sad before. She went to her bedroom and didn't come out for two days. (Bette said she just needed some alone time.) Mommy came a few days later and that made things feel better. A little.

"Olivia isn't going to be alone," she heard Dad say. Their voices dropped and she crept closer to the bottom step, straining her ears. Nana was _so_ hurt. She frowned, remembering the way she gasped when she saw Dad help her into the house. Mom had tried to warn her what Nana would look like, but it didn't prepare her. Nothing could, she thought as she remembered gently hugging Nana. She had been terrified her hug was going to break Nana..

"How long have you been there?"

She jumped and looked up as Aunt Caitlin's voice echoed in the stairwell. "I-I was hungry," she stuttered. With a sad smile, her aunt took her hand and led her into the kitchen. Aunt Evy looked up as she blew her nose. Dad and Uncle Sean were talking. She sighed, setting her book on the counter as she looked up at Aunt Caitlin. "Is everyone still friends?" she asked.

"Of course, sweetie," she sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She nodded, leaning against her aunt as she hugged her tightly.

* * *

 _Bette_

She hung back, watching the way Olivia and Evy stood together by the front door. The young girl was pressed against her mother, as much as her mother's injuries would allow. "Promise you won't leave your dormitory with wet hair," she heard Olivia say and she bit back a smile as Evy looked up.

"I don't think that's going to stop me from getting sick," she retorted.

Olivia smiled and cupped her face, kissing her forehead. "Perhaps not," she mused and she could see the way she winced. "But, my mother used to say it to me."

The young girl nodded. "Ok," she whispered. With a sigh, she stepped away from her mother and picked up her shoulder bag from the floor. "I'll text you before the plane takes off."

"Chin up, darling," she said softly, chucking her daughter's chin.

With a brave smile, Evy nodded and slowly turned away. Quietly, she moved to stand behind Olivia, watching as the young girl climbed into the back of Sean's rented minivan. They were all leaving for the airport. Sean and his family back to Seattle. Evy back to New York City. Caitlin and her family had left for their home in northern California more than an hour ago. With a gentle touch, she placed her hand on Olivia's left shoulder and leaned closer. "Chin up," she murmured into her ear. "That was a nice touch. Very British."

With a sigh, Olivia's left hand came up to wave as the van slowly backed out of the driveway. "I've never had much of a stiff upper lip," she mused, swallowing back a gasp. She turned back to her, her expression downcast as she stepped back into the house.

"Oh, Livy," she sighed as she closed the front door. When she turned back into the room, she found Olivia standing forlornly at the base of the stairs. She looked confused as she glanced around the living room, her expression growing dimmer by the second. She glanced at her watch. She was overdue for a painkiller. "Livy, why don't you sit-"

"I remember the last time Gregory was in this room." She grimaced, watching as Olivia looked up and pointed to a spot by the sofa. "He stood here. We were saying goodbye to Casey and the children before we left for Florence." With a painstaking slowness, she took a step closer, watching as her friend's alabaster skin grew paler. "Harrison was upset he wouldn't have anyone to golf with for the three weeks we would be away." Their eyes met as she sighed, "Who will golf with him now?"

 _That's_ what she was thinking about? "Olivia," she began, moving to stand next to her.

But, Olivia sighed as bewilderment swept across her face. "I can remember that. I can remember the night before the accident. We had dinner at a restaurant on the bank of the Arno. Gregory had osso bucco. I had risotto. We walked back to the hotel and he teased me because I kept stopping to look up at the full moon.

"Olivia," she said again, her voice gentle as she took her hand.

"I-I remember all that," she murmured as a confused expression swept across her face. "Why can't I remember the accident?"

"Livy," she sighed, rubbing her left hand as she held it to her chest, "besides all the other injuries, you had a _concussion_. You couldn't come home until the CT scans were clear."

"I know that," she sighed, her voice morose and flat. "That doesn't…help." She turned slowly and sighed. "I don't remember the last moments I was with Gregory. I don't remember the last thing I said to him. I-"

She watched her falter, her eyes narrowed as her voice trailed away. "What, sweetie?"

"I-I don't remember," she whispered, her voice shaking, "if I told him I loved him that morning."

With a sigh, she watched Olivia wander to the fireplace and gazed at the framed photos on the mantle. "You know something?" she said softly, watching the way her friend's uninjured shoulder slumped. "You loved that man with _everything_ you had. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't know how much you loved him." Slowly, Olivia turned back to her. Her expression was blank, as if her words hadn't sunk in. "If he knew nothing else, he knew _that_."

"But, I don't remember," she murmured sadly. "I don't remember."


	5. To Make Sure That

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Five: "To Make Sure That"

 _Evy_

She climbed out of the Uber and put her arms through the straps of her backpack. God, it was SO heavy! "Thanks," she said quickly as she lugged out her two suitcases. As the car pulled away, she dropped her luggage to the ground and looked up at the house. Anyone else would say the house looked the same as it always did. It was the house she and her two older siblings grew up in. It was the house Mom and Dad spent their entire married lives. But, now, when she looked at it, it was different. Without Dad, it was…emptier. She knew it when she left on Sunday with Sean and his family for the airport.

That's why she came back.

"Evy?"

She looked up, seeing Harrison come out from the garage. "Hey!" she said, hugging him tight.

"What- what are you doing here?" he asked.

"It's where I need to be," she said simply. "Why aren't you in school?"

"Teacher planning day." She watched as he grabbed each of her suitcases and made a face. "Geeze, how did you carry these yourself?"

"My R.A. helped me get them out of my dorm."

"So…why aren't _you_ in school?" He looked up with a grin. "Did you drop out?"

She shook her head as she followed him through the garage and into the kitchen. "Of course not. I just…I just withdrew from this semester."

She heard him chuckle as he turned for the back staircase. "Would've been cooler if you dropped out," he teased and she reached out, playfully swatting his shoulder. She rolled her eyes as she dropped her backpack onto one of the kitchen chairs as he called out, "I'll put these in your room."

"Thanks, Harrison!" She rolled her shoulders and exhaled deeply. Her poor body was confused as tremors of jet lag wrecked through it. Even as her stomach turned, she couldn't help but sigh in relief. She was home. No more cross-country flights for a long while. As she kicked off her Converse sneakers, she thought of Dad with a pang. For as long as she could remember, he was always going somewhere. How was he not wrecked by the jet lag and all his international travel? With a deep sigh, she rolled her stiff neck and left the kitchen. Her sock-clad feet padded on the tile as she walked through the first floor. As she yawned, she saw the open door at the end of the hall and stopped short.

Dad's study.

The door was open.

She felt her shoulders slump as she walked down the hall to the room. She hadn't been in there in weeks. Not since she was home for Christmas break.

 _"Hey, Dad?" She lingered in the door, watching as Dad glanced up from the stack of papers on his desk. "Mom said if you don't come now, you're going to need to starve for the rest of the night."_

 _He sighed, took off his reading glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "She's never starved me once in all the years we've been together."_

 _"I mean, not_ _yet_ _," she retorted as she neared him, resting her hands on his deck. He chuckled as he stacked his papers into different piles. "I don't think you should push her. You know she stresses during the holidays."_

 _"She'll be fine," he said stood and came around the desk. A moment later, his arm was around her shoulders as he led her out of the study._

 _"I mean, you say that now," she teased as they walked down the hall. "But, when she has her annual meltdown, you can put that fire out."_

 _Dad cupped the back of her neck and drew her closer to him with a gentle squeeze. A moment later, she felt his lips brush against her forehead. "She just wants everything to perfect. Christmas is her favorite holiday."_

She shivered, remembering the way his hand felt against the back of her neck. The way it felt when he kissed her forehead. The way it felt when he was _here_. Her hands twitched against her legs as she stood in the doorway and looked in. Mom was sitting quietly on the leather sofa, the late morning sunshine holding her in its embrace. A pillow was wedged beneath her right arm, supporting the sling. But, her face… Her expression was twisted, as if she was in pain. Her blue eyes were frozen, fixed on Dad's leather chair. "Mom?" she asked quietly as she stepped into the room.

Only Mom's eyes moved as they flickered toward her. She blinked, watching her for a long moment before her lips parted. "W-what are you doing here?" she asked softly.

She shrugged as she crossed the small office and sat next to her on the sofa. With a sigh, she began, "I couldn't be at school. I just couldn't sit through _History of Western Civilization Since 1715_." As she took Mom's hand, she heard her sigh her name. "Mom, I just don't care about anything. Dad is dead. I want to be at home."

It wasn't at all the way she rehearsed it on the plane. It had sounded _so_ much better in her head. But now, sitting here next to Mom, she felt all her reasoning waver. "You can't become a dropout," she heard Mom say and she glanced up. Mom's expression was clear as she sighed, "Your father would never forgive me if I let that happen."

"I'm not a dropout," she sighed as she leaned back and folded her legs beneath her. "My advisor already signed me up for the summer semester. It starts at the end of May. I'm on sabbatical until then."

"Sabbatical."

The word hung between and she watched Mom meet her eyes. "It's a good word, right?" she teased, hoping to see Mom smile. But, she didn't. Instead, her left hand brushed against her jaw as she sighed again. "Sounds very official, like something an Oxford don would say." Mom only sighed as her hand fell away. She inched closer, looping her arm around her mother's left one. "Are you mad?" she asked softly.

"No. Of course not."

She watched as Mom turned back to Dad's desk and sighed. She followed her gaze and swallowed. This was why she came home: so Mom wouldn't sit in here by herself. "It-it smells like Dad in here," she whispered.

She looked up, just in time to see the whisper of grimace in Mom's expression. "Yes," she said, inhaling. "Yes, it does." Mom's face was shrouded in deep wrinkles that seemingly appeared overnight. The grief was slowly leaving its mark on her. She looked twenty years older now. She bit her lip and glanced away from Dad's desk. She didn't often think about how much older Mom and Dad were than her friends' parents. They never _seemed_ old. They were always the fun parents. Most of her friends liked them more than their own parents. But, now it was so obvious that time was the enemy as she looked into Mom's heartbroken expression. "His cologne."

"What about it?" she asked.

"He always wore it." She sighed deeply and she closed her eyes. A moment later, she saw a wave of pain crest across her face. "It was stupid, but…"

"But what?"

Mom opened her eyes again as she murmured, "I thought it might help me remember." She raised her left hand and rubbed the space between her eyebrows.

"Remembered what, Mom?"

"The last day in Florence."

She frowned and sat up. "You hit your head," she said softly. When their rental car flipped down a hillside outside of Florence. She took Mom's trembling hand and squeezed it gently. "Maybe…maybe it's a good thing you don't remember the accident," she offered. Sean had described what Mom and Dad's rental car looked like. It was shredded. Mom shouldn't be tortured with having to remember that.

She shook her head. "I don't want to remember the accident, Evy. I want to remember your _father_."

With a sigh, she snuggled against her mother's left side and rested her head against her shoulder. "Remember something else about Dad instead." She angled her head up and said, "Like your first date. Remember _that_." Mom sighed and she thought she saw the brief flash of a wistful smile. "What?"

"Our first date." Mom sighed deeply before she continued in a whisper, "I went home that night thinking it was the last time I was ever going to see him."

She sat up and turned to her mother. This was _not_ part of her parent's story she'd ever heard before. "What are you talking about? Dad always said he knew you were the one he wanted to marry that night."

Mom shrugged and continued to watch Dad's chair. "I didn't know that then. That night," she sighed with a deep exhale, "I thought I blew it."

A dozen confused thoughts swirled in her head as she asked, "How?"

"Bette said to play hard to get and…I didn't."

There was a heartbeat of silence before she instantly understood. "Mom! You gave it up on the first date?" She frowned. Whenever she asked Mom for dating advice, she had _always_ told her to play hard to get.

"I know," Mom marveled, her voice flat. "That very well could've been the end of it. Up until then, I had spent weeks ignoring him whenever I saw him." Slowly, her hand slipped into Mom's as she continued, "I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I gasped when he called me the next morning."

She smiled as she squeezed Mom's hand. "See? You were always the one he wanted Mom."

* * *

 _Casey_

"Caitlin is going to flip out when she finds out you've come home." He rubbed his face and sighed deeply.

"Caitlin isn't my mother," Evy retorted. "She's just going to have to deal."

No one ever told him how exhausting it was to have sisters. He nodded as his youngest sister continued to rail as he vaguely remembered all the times Meg complained about Sara. Perhaps he should've paid more attention to her. "Take it easy, Evy," he sighed.

"No, I mean it." She laid her spoon in the bowl of fruit and sighed. "She's been an over-the-top control freak ever since…well, you know." He nodded, choosing to fold his arms against his chest and listen as she continued, "I mean, who died and made her boss?"

He winced, her words coursing through them as she gasped and flung her hands over her mouth. "She's upset and sad," he pointed out softly. "Just like _you_. She just wants things-"

"She wants things the way she wants them," she insisted stubbornly. "Well, she doesn't get a say about _my_ life. She can stick with dictating the terms of living for Charlie and the kids."

" _Ok_ ," he said firmly, leaning closer to his sister. "Take a breath. I _mean_ it."

Her brown eyes widened as she sat back in her chair. "You sounded a little like Dad," she murmured, absently chewing on her thumb.

He sighed. He did, didn't he? He sounded like Gregory. He could hear it. "It's exhausting keeping the two of you from ripping out each other's throats."

"I think that's just a tad overdramatic," she grumbled as she dug her spoon back into her bowl of fruit.

"Maybe." He stood, ignoring the way his spine popped in five places. He grabbed his mug and turned for the Keurig in the corner of the counter. A dark feeling swirled from deep within his core as he forced himself to say, "Send her a text and let her know you're home."

"Umm, yeah right," Evy retorted. "Mom knows I'm home. I don't owe Cait any explanation."

He clenched his jaw as he stabbed the buttons of the coffee machine with his index finger. "Evy! For Christ sake!" He smacked his hands on the counter, boiling irritation coursing through him. "ENOUGH!" He breathed deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the tension in his chest to subside.

"God. You really _do_ sound like Dad."

"Seriously!" he exclaimed, inhaling deeply as he turned around. His younger sister watched him defiantly and he was struck by how much she _looked_ like Gregory in that moment. "You love Caitlin and she loves you. And, one day, – _soon_ – you're going to feel really bad about the way you're acting." As she opened her mouth with a rebuttal, he shook his head and turned back to the Keurig. "Text her. _Now_."

"Fine," she sighed as the doorbell rang.

He picked up his mug and left the kitchen, sucking air into his tight lungs. He loved both his sisters, but tensions had been running high between them the last few weeks. Since Gregory died. He was confident things would settle down between them, but that didn't mean being the referee was easy. With a sigh, he shifted his mug to his other hand and pulled open the front door. An older man, around Gregory's age, was on the other side and he watched him remove his sunglasses. "Can I help you?"

"Hello."

He waited expectantly as the stranger chuckled beneath his breath and tucked his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his blazer. "Can I-"

"You're Greg's son? The new one?"

He stiffened. It had been several months since anyone expressed surprise at learning Gregory was his father. In fact, he had gotten used to how unsurprising – indeed, _normal_ – it was for Gregory to be his father. He didn't need this. Didn't need the reminder that he was the new son. Didn't need his sisters to be at each other's throats. "So," he asked, hearing the way he forced the word from his clenched jaw, "how can I _help_ you?"

"Temper like him too, it looks like," the man chuckled and he felt his hand clench around the mug. "I was wondering if Olivia was feeling up to a visit. I didn't get a chance to pay my respects to her after the funeral. I wanted to make sure that she knew I had heard about Greg."

He frowned. He had gotten to know Gregory and Olivia well the last few months. He had gotten to know their friends. The couples they went out with. But, this man...he didn't know him. "Sorry, she's resting. I can let her know you stopped by though, Mr…?"

"Stanton. Morris Stanton."

"Well, Morris," he replied, feeling for the door knob as he prepared to close the front door, "I'll tell her you came by. Perhaps when she's feeling up to it, she can-"

 _"Morris?"_

He glanced up, hearing Olivia's gasp echo across the hallway. She must've come from her study, he realized, as he looked past her to the open door at the end of the hall. Or she was still in Gregory's study. That's where Evy said she was when she came home. He watched her close the gap between them as her left hand danced against her mouth. "Oh, Morris," she sighed tearfully as she stepped into his embrace.

* * *

 _Morris_

"Still the same house," he remarked as he sat on the sofa with a glance.

Olivia nodded and sat next to him, watching him carefully. They hadn't seen each other in years. Not since her son was born. They had occasionally passed each other in town, but those times were few and far between in the subsequent 35 years. He didn't exactly run in the same social circles as her and Greg. "Yes," she said softly, her eyes still glued to him.

The other son – Greg's son – had stepped away long enough to get him a cup of coffee. Olivia insisted on it. Otherwise, he had a strong feeling he wouldn't have been left alone with her. "It always was a nice place," he said, returning her inquisitive gaze. She looked worse for the wear when he saw her from afar at the funeral. When he stood in line to see her. But, there were too many people ahead of him in the line and she left shortly after the impromptu singalong.

He watched her nod slowly and adjust the way her left hand cupped her right elbow. As she opened her mouth to reply, he watched the way her eyes flickered behind him. "Darling, come here," he heard her say as turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. A young blonde girl looked back at him, staring hard at him as she continued, "There's someone I want you to meet."

"Yeah, Casey said someone was here." He pushed himself up, meeting the girl's extended hand. "I'm Evy."

He nodded, marveling how much the young girl looked like Greg. "I'm Morris."

"Morris and Daddy were roommates at university."

The young girl watched him skeptically as she pulled her hand back. "You went to Cornell with my dad?" she asked doubtfully. As if she didn't believe him… _or_ her mother.

He chuckled. Suspicion must've been in the Richards gene pool. "Cornell needed a linebacker," he explained with a chuckle. "Greg and I were both scholarship cases, so we shared the tiniest shoebox of a room our freshman year." He glanced back to where Olivia sat quietly, watching their introduction. "Did Greg ever get one of them to Cornell?"

She shook her head, her lips pressed together in a line. "No. But, Evy goes to Columbia, so I think he thought that was close enough."

"Ithaca is practically to Canada," the daughter grumbled as she collapsed into the armchair across from the sofa. " _Way_ too cold."

"Greg used to say the same thing," he pointed out as he sat back down. She watched him carefully and only smiled in response. A polite smile. One he remembered seeing on Greg too often. He cleared his throat, painfully reminded of why he was here. Sitting in Greg's living room after all these years. Olivia sat up straighter when he looked back at her, as if she knew what was coming. "I was sorry to hear what happened," he said softly, hearing the way Olivia inhaled. He heard his own breath catch as he said, "He was a lion. And, I loved him like a brother."

"Thank you, Morris," she said softly. She winced and leaned into her left side, exhaling slowly.

He nodded and cleared his throat, forcing his eyes down. But, it was the truth. As a black 17-year-old from Bed-Stuy, he hadn't _exactly_ fit in on Cornell's campus in 1967. In more ways than one. But, he found he _did_ fit in with Greg, whose need for a full financial aid package set him apart from their wealthier counterparts on campus. "We hadn't spoken in years, but-"

"I-I never told you I was sorry," she interrupted with a small gasp. "Sorry that I was the reason he stopped speaking to you."

He looked up quickly even as he felt her daughter's curious gaze sharpen against him. "Olivia, it wasn't your fault," he said softly. She only shook her head and looked away, as if she didn't want to hear it. Maybe she didn't. It wouldn't change anything. Greg was still dead.

"Do you live in Sunset Beach?" Evy asked after a long moment. She didn't say anything else, but he could hear her mind working. She was trying to figure him out. Trying to place him in her father's life.

He looked up and nodded, suddenly grateful her question changed the conversation. "Laguna Niguel," he explained. That was the simple explanation. "I used to live in Sunset Beach, but I moved back to the area a few months ago from Oakland."

"But, you hate the Bay Area," Olivia murmured as she turned back to him and he chuckled.

"I can't believe you remember that!"

With a one shoulder shrug, her dulled eyes slowly connected with his. "Who could forget all the times you and Gregory tore the area to shreds?"

"But, wait," Evy interjected as she sat up, "Dad went to Stanford. _He_ lived there during law school."

"And, he hated every moment of it," Olivia said dryly as she leaned forward, shifting on the sofa cushion. "From what he always said, you going there to visit didn't help endear him to the Bay Area." Their eyes met as she continued softly, "You reminded him of New York."

He nodded, remembering. "Those reminders got us thrown out of some bars after we trash talked the home teams." He watched Olivia force a smile and he saw the way she clenched her teeth. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep you. You should rest."

Her eyes widened as she shook her head insistently. "But, your coffee…"

He smiled and reached out, covering her hand with his. "Another time. I promise."

"Tomorrow?" she asked and he smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Tomorrow."


	6. Just Right

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Six: "Just Right"

 _Bette_

She sat at Olivia's desk, sorting through the mail. It had been weeks, but bundles and bundles of condolence cards were still delivered daily. She shook her head, her eyes racing over the return address label before she placed the envelope on the stack in the corner. "So many cards," she murmured, quickly sorting today's delivery into piles the way a blackjack dealer shuffled cards. So many cards, so many repeated phrases. _Our deepest condolences… In sympathy… Sending thoughts and prayers… I'm so sorry for your loss…_ "So many."

She looked up, hearing the slap of sandals on the tile floor. A moment later, Evy turned the corner and lingered in the doorway to her mother's office. "Hi," she said softly, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jean shorts.

"Hi, Blondie," she murmured, shuffling through the cards.

The teenager wandered in, sighing deeply, as her eyes moved over the mountains of cards. "Wow," she sighed, her hand dancing over the tallest pile. "Mom hasn't seen these, right?"

She pulled off her red reading glasses and leaned back, blinking her tired eyes. "Of course not. I don't think she's stepped foot in here since before she left for Italy."

Evy nodded as she leaned against the desk, her arms folded against her chest. "She goes into Dad's office after physical therapy," she said softly. "She sits in there for hours. She's…she's trying to remember the day of the accident."

She nodded back and reached out, patting the girl's hip. "I know. I don't think she'll be able to rest until she does," she said softly as Evy met her eyes.

"Bette," she sighed, blinking back tears, "I-I don't know how to help her. The other day, when Nicola and I were looking through old photos of Dad in the living room, Mom was-" She frowned as the young girl sniffled, her teary eyes wide. "She's-she's so quiet and…"

"And?" she prodded gently.

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she whispered, "She's so… _sad_."

With a sigh, she stood up and extended her arms. She hugged Evy against her, running her hand over her golden blonde hair. "She is, Blondie," she murmured into her hair as she felt the young girl tremble against her. "She will be for awhile. Maybe forever. What she and your father had-"

"Bette," she exclaimed, pulling back slightly as she looked up, "I don't want her to be sad _forever_!"

She cupped the young girl's face and sighed. "Honey, you know how she and your father were. They were inseparable. They were just…just _right_. They had everything I wanted to have with each of my nine husbands." The teenager sighed deeply, their eyes locked as she continued, "Do you know about my second husband, Jeffrey?" When the teenager shook her head, she explained, "We had been married more than a year when he died. Your mother and Elaine were practically glued to my side in the days and weeks after. It was right around the same time your mother started dating your father…" She trailed off, remembering how tied into each other the two events were: her second husband's death and the start of Olivia's relationship with Gregory. Why they happened. How they happened. None of that mattered anymore though. The girl nodded, but she could see the confusion swirling in her brown eyes. In the brown eyes she got from her father. "Jeffrey and I didn't what your parents had, but it still hurt. But, time heals everything, Blondie. Your mother just needs time."

She nodded slowly, her arms falling away as brushed at her eyes again. "Am I helping her? Because I don't feel like I am. And, I hate feeling useless."

Just like her father. "Oh, Blondie, of course you are! You could sit in the corner with a dunce hat on and it would help your mother." Evy smirked and she cupped her chin, kissing her nose. At least she smiled. "Might make Olivia laugh if you did. You might want to try that."

She rolled her eyes as they leaned back in unison against Olivia's desk. "Bette, I have to tell you something. I-I don't want Mom to remember the day of the accident." She glanced over, biting the corner of her lip. "It won't help her. It won't change anything."

"I know, Evy. I know." She patted her cheek and turned back to the piles covering the desk. She heard the young girl's sniffle segue into a sigh. She glanced up in time to see the young girl rub her face as she sighed deeper, her brown eyes swollen and bleary. "I'll tell you what," she began as she reached for the second tallest stack of cards, "you can run an errand for me. Well, for Olivia, really."

"Errand to where?"

" _Darcy's_. I ordered a banoffee pie." She smiled when Evy gagged dramatically. "I know, I know. It's horrible! But, your mother is British and she loves their disgusting cuisine."

"Yeah, but I haven't seen her eat dessert in years though," Evy sighed, running her hand through her hair.

"Maybe. But, it'll surprise her. You'll go pick up the order?" When the young girl nodded, she smiled gratefully and dropped the stack into the trash can.

"Why are you throwing those out?"

She shook her head and smiled tightly. "Don't worry about those. Now, the order is in my name and-"

" _Why_ did you throw those out?" Evy asked again, her question sharp. She couldn't help the shiver that crawled down her spine. Her tone reminded her so much of Gregory's when he expected an answer. "Who are they from?"

She sighed. "No one special, Blondie. Just…slugs."

"Slugs?"

She sighed, having a good idea of the way the young girl would react. "The men whose condolence cards included… _personal_ messages to your mother." Evy stared at her dumbly and she cleared her throat, clarifying, "The ones who want to _console_ your mother. She's not ready to deal with them."

Evy's eyes narrowed. "Are you KIDDING me?" She shook her head and patted the girl's arm as she glared down at the bin. "Dad hasn't even been-"

"Hey, hey." She cupped her face, marveling at how accurately she predicted Evy's anger. "Out of sight, out of mind."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I want to throw up or punch someone." She exhaled deeply and squeezed her eyes shut briefly. "No, I do know. I want to punch someone."

She smiled sadly. "Spoken like the daughter of Gregory Richards." Evy's eyes opened slowly and she whispered, "Just don't let _me_ be on the other side of your fist. Ok?"

"Ok." She shook her head and leaned in, hugging her tightly. "Thank you for being here for Mom. For me."

Her throat tightened, her hand running over the girl's blonde hair. She lost her one chance at motherhood. But, with Olivia's children, in these moments, she was reminded all too painfully of what she lost when she lost Emily. "You're stuck with me, Blondie. You and your mother."

* * *

 _Morris_

"It's nice to see you around again, big guy," he heard Bette say as he followed her through the house to the patio. She glanced over her shoulder, a sad smile dancing on her lips. "Despite the circumstances."

He nodded as the stepped out onto the patio. "Yes," he simply, narrowing his eyes in the face of the strong sunshine. He'd stopped by almost daily, sitting with Olivia in the afternoon. Sometimes they just sat in silence. But, most afternoons, she'd listen quietly while he told her stories about his time at Cornell with Greg. Now, he could see Olivia sitting on a cushioned lounge chair, amply shaded from the sun by a large umbrella and wide palm frond. He turned to Bette and returned her sad smile. "You still look good, Bette."

She clicked her tongue and chuckled beneath her breath. "Always the flatterer," she said softly. He watched her turn back to Olivia, the lines around her eyes crinkled with worry. "I left her with a sandwich and a bowl of fruit. See if you can get her to eat, hmm?"

He nodded slowly as he left her and walked over to Olivia. Slowly, he rubbed his mouth and exhaled deeply as he watched her in profile. The grim expression seemed permanently imprinted on her face as she looked out at the ocean. If she heard him approach, if she heard him sit in the chair next to her, she didn't acknowledge it. She didn't even look up. But, as he settled into the chair on her left, he heard the change in her breathing. With a glance down at the untouched plate on the table between them, he asked, "Do you mind? I'm starving."

She shook her head and glanced up at him. Her blue eyes were bright as he reached for half of the turkey sandwich and took a bite. "Not bad," he said after he swallowed. "I'll leave you the berries though. They're bird food." He nudged the bowl closer and watched as she sighed, her eyes rolling. With an awkward carefulness, because using her left hand was not natural, she picked up the spoon and brought a mouthful to her lips.

"Happy?" she murmured.

With a grin, he leaned forward and turned to her. "Someone has to eat them before the birds get them. Might as well be you." He took another bite of the sandwich, saying nothing else as he watched her eat another spoonful of fruit. She must have felt him still watching her because she looked up slowly, turning completely to him. The bruises on the right side of her face had dulled from deep shades of purple and blue to sickly green and yellow.

She sighed. "Horrific to look at, isn't it?" She leaned into her left side with another deeper sigh. "I still catch Harrison and Nicola looking. But, they were raised properly. They always apologize for staring."

He nodded, placed the sandwich back on the plate, and moved his chair closer to hers. "They're doing well?"

Her lips pressed into a line as she considered his question. "They miss Gregory," she said softly and he heard her voice catch as she continued, "I-I'm not much help to them." She sighed and rubbed a spot in the middle of her forehead. "I'm not much help to anyone."

"Olivia-"

Her eyes slowly turned up, latching onto his gaze. Involuntarily, he felt a shudder quake deep in his stomach as her expression collapsed. "And, I want to be," she murmured, "but, I can't."

"Why not?" he asked quietly after a long moment.

Slowly, she sat up, inhaling sharply at the effort. "Because…because I don't understand what happened."

He was still as he watched his late friend's wife. Her blue eyes had suddenly dulled and he could see the haunted look brimming at the edges of her expression. "What do you mean?"

She turned back out to the ocean and she was suddenly in profile again. He could see the way her throat worked as she began, "It's been more than a month." She sighed deeply and he watched her eyes close. "I don't understand what happened. I don't _remember_ what happened. I-I don't remember _Gregory_." Her eyes opened suddenly and she looked over to him. "Nothing makes sense," she gasped.

"The boys went to Florence when you were in the hospital. They spoke to the police. Surely they explained to you-"

She sniffed and shook her head. "The _Carabinieri's_ English was somehow _worse_ than Sean's broken Italian." With care, her left hand reached out and rested on his right forearm. "Morris, I need your help. With getting the police reports from the _Carabinieri_. With the articles. I can't ask the children."

He cleared his throat and sat up, his mind racing. "Articles?"

Her hand fell away from his arm, the spot tingling as she reached for the iPhone next to the plate. With a tap and then a swipe of her finger, the device came to life and the screen glowed. She held out the phone to him and he could see it was opened to an online newspaper article about their car accident. "Olivia," he sighed as his eyes moved over the words, not understanding the Italian.

"Please, Morris," she said softly.

" _Olivia-"_

" _Something's going to happen, Morris. I can feel it."_

" _I told you, not on my watch."_

He sighed deeply, not able to say no to her. He never could. Not 37 years ago. And, not today. With a grudging sigh, he said, "I'll make some calls."

* * *

 _Evy_

With a sigh, she climbed out of Dad's car and pressed the lock, hearing it chirp. The sun was shining and she adjusted her ponytail out the back of her faded Yankees hat. All the parking spaces in _Darcy's_ small lot were taken, so she had to settle for street parking two blocks away. With another deep exhale, she shoved the keys into her pocket and began the short walk down the street to the bakery.

She shivered as she passed the sidewalk tables outside _The Standard_. She felt the eyes of every single patron on her. It made her skin crawl. She pulled her brim down and lowered her face, suddenly finding the sidewalk fascinating. She had kept a low profile and stayed at home since getting back from New York City. Not that it mattered. None of her friends were here. Like her, they all went away for college.

 _"Not Cornell?"_

She froze, the muscles of her stomach tensing as she remembered the way Dad reacted to the list of schools she planned on applying to for college.

 _"Yeah, right, Dad. I mean, it's a great school-"_

 _"Ivy League."_

 _"BUT," she sighed, ignoring his subtle dig, "so is Columbia. And, what I remember from your Cornell stories is how much you hated the winters there."_

 _"They started in late September."_

 _"Exactly." She giggled and leaned across the Jag's armrest. "You don't want your poor daughter, who has spent her ENTIRE life in southern California, dying of shock and exposure in Ithaca by Halloween. Do you?"_

 _He chuckled beneath his breath and glanced over, shaking his head. "So, Columbia?" he asked._

 _She grinned and nodded as he cupped her chin. "One hand in the air for the big city," she sang softly as she reached up, her hand wrapping around his wrist. He smiled before he turned back to the line of traffic they sat in. But, he still held onto her hand and she smiled back when she felt him squeeze gently._

"Evy?"

She gasped and looked up quickly as she brushed the tears from her cheeks. She blinked, seeing Benjy Evans watching her carefully. She sniffled and shook her head, cursing internally. This was the _second_ time he's seen her cry. God, it was so _weak_. "Oh…hey," she croaked, forcing herself to look back up at him.

He smiled kindly before his dark eyes flickered up to something behind her. "It's Gos, right?" he asked and she frowned, confused. "My stepsister is one of his biggest fan girls. She cries too at the sight of him."

She glanced behind her, seeing the framed poster of the dancing couple hanging on the façade of the movie theater. "Oh. Yeah."

When she turned back to him, his smile deepened as he continued to watch her. "It's nice to see you. How's it going?"

"Oh. You know… _terrible_ ," she trailed off as the toe of her sneakers stabbed the sidewalk.

He shook his head. "Sorry. That was a knucklehead thing to ask." A tiny smile came to her lips as she listened to him berate herself. He wasn't at all like Ben, who was one of her father's oldest business associates. Ben was calm and smooth, never saying the wrong thing. But Benjy was anything but as he ran a nervous hand through his thick dark hair. "What I meant was, I heard you were back in town." She looked up and he must have seen the confused look on her face because he quickly continued, "Casey told Meg. She told my dad and I overheard."

She nodded, her hand wrapped around Dad's key ring. "Yeah. I just- just couldn't be at school right now."

He stepped closer to her and nodded. "I get it," he said softly and she looked up, meeting his dark eyes. "I'm sure lectures, study groups, and term papers are the last thing on your mind right now." A brief silence fell between them before she heard him say, "I bet your mom is glad you're home."

She thought back to her conversation with Bette in Mom's study. "I think so. I'm not sure how much I'm helping her, you know?"

As he shook his head, she felt his hand graze hers. Involuntarily, she gripped the keys tighter as she looked back up at him. A sad expression wrinkled across his face, as if a sudden memory haunted every ounce of him. "Being there, spending time…it helps more than you realize," he replied softly.

She swallowed as their hands brushed together again, his knuckles against her fingers. "You think?"

"I do," he whispered.

She felt the lump in her throat swell and she inhaled sharply as she said, "I should get out of your way." She forced herself to step back, noticing his suit. "You're on your way to the office, right?"

He chuckled beneath his breath as he glanced down. "I see you're familiar with the Liberty Corporation's dress code."

With a helpless shrug, she giggled. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"I guess." He reached up, loosening the tie knotted at his neck. "Kind of feels like I'm playing dress-up in one of Dad's suits though." She took a long moment to watch him, from his leather dress shoes up to his sheepish grin. "I do need to get back to the office though. Where are you headed?"

She glanced down the street, gesturing. " _Darcy's_. Bette ordered something for Mom."

"Something chocolate, I hope."

She shook her head, swallowing back the involuntary gag as she thought of the banoffee pie. "Not exactly," she said, pushing Dad's keys down into her pocket.

With interest, she watched a grin light up his brown eyes. "Maybe you'll tell me about the 'not exactly' dessert the next time I see you?"

She bit back a smile, feeling suddenly bashful as he watched her closely. "Maybe," she said softly and she felt her heart flutter when he beamed.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics Evy sang are from "Empire State of Mind" (written by Angela Hunte, Alicia Keys, Alexander Shuckburgh, Burt Keyes, Janet "Jnay" Sewell-Ulepic, Shawn Carter, and Sylvia Robinson)._


	7. And I Know

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Seven: "And I Know"

 _Casey_

He shifted on the lounge chair, watching the kids play on the lawn. Nicola's laugh hung in the air as the volleyball bounced off Lizzie's head before landing in the bushes. "Easy, girls! No trips to urgent care!

He heard them groan and, even from the deck, he saw Nicola roll her eyes. "What happened?" Meg asked as she came out, holding out a beer.

He shook his head and took a long sip. "I think…I think I'm the lame parent."

She giggled and curled up on the chair next to his. "You _do_ have some awful dad jokes," she admitted before she glanced over with a sly expression.

"I always thought I'd be the cool dad." When she laughed again, he grinned and met her eyes. "Once Allie turned 13, I found out really quickly I _wasn't_."

"Teenagers are awful. Though it seems like Lizzie's been one since she was seven." She shook her head and looked back at their daughters. "Now, that she actually _is_ one…well, I don't know."

He leaned back against the cushion and turned his gaze up to the sky. The late afternoon sun was strong, but comfortable as it draped over him. With a deep sigh, he let his eyes close as his ears perked. The girls laughing. The frond rustling in the wind. The waves crashing on the beach. His mother had always said he was a water baby…and maybe there was some truth to that. He never felt the way he did at the beach. The beach was home. But, not just _any_ beach. This beach. The beach where he made sand castles with his mother. Where he learned to surf. Where he brought Diana to so he could propose. This beach was _his_ beach.

"We've come a long way from Surf Central, haven't we?" he heard Meg ask.

He felt the smile stretch across his face as he nodded. "We're domesticated."

"Yeah, but you're the one with awful dad jokes," she teased.

He sighed and looked at her, squinting. "Whatever. But, _you're_ the one with a college graduate." Meg's face turned and he immediately regretted bringing Benjy into the joke. He had always been a sensitive subject. "Sorry."

Her smile was forced as she looked back at him. "It's fine," she said quickly.

He opened his eyes all the way and pushed himself up. "How's it been? Having Benjy in town full time?"

With a deep sigh, she shook her head. "Oh, he's the usual source of trouble he's always been." He nodded as she rubbed her forehead and continued, "Of course, Ben doesn't see it. He never has."

" _What haven't I never seen?"_

He glanced up as Ben's heavy footsteps strode across the deck. Meg chuckled and quickly answered, "Seen how _perfectly_ the pool fits into the design of the yard."

"Who wants to live steps away from the beach _and_ have a pool?" Ben asked as he kissed the top of Meg's head.

"Oh, you know," he said casually as he raised the beer bottle to his lips, "lots of people."

Ben's gaze turned to his and he held out his hand. "Casey, how are you?"

He nodded, but said nothing as he shook Ben's hand. Meg flashed him a grateful smile as she said, "The girls are determined to make the spring volleyball team. They've been practicing all afternoon."

Ben nodded and looked up at their daughters for the briefest of moments before he turned back to him. "Casey, I'm actually glad you're here. You can save me a phone call."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I've been trying to get hold of Olivia for the last two weeks."

He sighed and swung his legs off the lounge chair. "Ben, she's not up for-"

"But, she _must_ ," he replied sharply and insistently.

"Ben!" Meg interjected at the same moment he said, "Now, wait a minute!"

As she shook her head, Ben continued, "I'm not insensitive to the fact that she's grieving." He sighed deeply and placed his hands on Meg's shoulders. "I remember all too well what she's going through," he said, his voice low. "But, Casey, do you realize she's the majority shareholder of Liberty now?"

His chest thundered as he shook his head dumbly. He didn't know a lot about Liberty, despite his minority stake in the company. But, he had wanted to. He _wanted_ to.

 _He closed the door softly and walked across the patio. Gregory was sitting at the table, engrossed in the Wall Street Journal, as Harrison looked up. "Hey, Dad."_

" _Hey, buddy," he said, tousling his son's head as he passed his chair. "Morning, Gregory," he said, intentionally ignoring the way his son sighed as he recombed his hair with his fingers._

" _Good morning," he murmured as he turned the page of the paper._

 _He reached for the plate of bagels as Rose suddenly appeared with the carafe of coffee. "Oh, it's ok," he said quickly, not comfortable with being waited on, as she filled his empty mug before he could take it from her. "Thanks."_

 _She smiled in reply before she turned to Gregory. "Mrs. Richards said she'll be down in ten minutes."_

" _Which means she'll be down in half an hour," he said beneath his breath as he looked up from his paper and Harrison snickered. "Thank you, Rose," he said in his normal voice. He cleared his throat and glanced at him. "What are your plans for today, Casey?"_

 _He reached for his mug as he shrugged. "Actually," he began, the rich coffee dancing against his nostrils, "I was wondering if I could talk to you about my shares in Liberty."_

 _Slowly, the newspaper caved in as Gregory folded it shut. "Oh?" The simple and even-toned question hung in the sudden silence. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Harrison roll his eyes and push his ear buds into his ears._

 _He cleared his throat and leaned in. "Even before last year, I was never an active stockholder."_

 _Gregory frowned. "You've participated in every vote since you inherited the stocks from Alex."_

" _Yes, but after I've always asked you, 'How would Mom have voted?'," he replied. He watched Gregory's head tilt, as if he needed to consider his reply. But, it was true. Whenever he received a thick enveloped embossed with the Liberty Corporation logo, he would never read the materials about the upcoming shareholders' vote. He would merely leave a message with one of Gregory's secretary to ask what Alex would have done. Before last year, it was the only communication he ever had with Gregory. "I've always participated, but I've been a disinterested stockholder. At best. I never even showed up for the meeting where we vote. I cast my vote over the phone."_

 _His father nodded and reached for his mug. "So, what would like to know about your shares?_

 _His voice dropped as he admitted, "Everything." Gregory's eyebrows raised, but that was his only response. "I know that's a lot to ask. And, I know I don't have much experience, but-"_

 _Gregory took another sip of coffee as he held up his hand. "No one has any experience until they start," he replied with a small smile. "We'll get to work when Olivia and I get back from Italy."_

"Casey?" He looked up into Ben's frustrated expression. "Olivia is the majority shareholder now. The Liberty Corporation needs to – _must_ – go on. Business cannot go on without her and, right now, I cannot get hold of her."

He cleared his throat and said through gritted teeth, "She hasn't been up to it." He watched as Ben exhaled deeply and shook his head. A flood of irritation raced through him. But, it was true. She hadn't been up to it. And, between her secretary, Bette, and Evy, Olivia hadn't seen any message left for her or mail sent to her.

"Casey, things are at a standstill. Without Gregory, some of our business partners are…concerned. Frankly, they're nervous."

He stood slowly, shaking loose the tight fists his hands had become. "I'll talk to her," he said slowly, "when _I_ decide she's up to it." It was firm. It was decisive.

It was the most like Gregory he'd ever felt.

* * *

 _Harrison_

He walked in the foyer and dropped his gym bag onto the floor. Slowly, he pushed the heavy front door shut and turned to the right. Poppop's study was at the end of the hall and the door was closed tight. With a sigh, he looked down at his shoes. Nana went in there every day, but he hadn't gone in there in more than a month. Not since before Poppop and Nana went to Italy.

"Hi, Speedy!" He looked over as Bette came in from the kitchen. "How was practice?"

He nodded as he yawned and stretched his arms high over his head. "Good," he sighed as she looked up at him. "We're ready for Tuesday's meet."

"You'll be the fastest of them all," she said as she reached up and pinched his cheek, causing him to roll his eyes. She always treated him and Nicola like babies! Dad said it was because she didn't have any grandchildren of her own.

"Hope so." He glanced into the living room, but it was empty. "Where's Nana?"

Bette's smile faded. "She's sitting down by the pool. Why don't you join her? Tell her about the race. Your dad and Nicola are still at Meg and Ben's."

It's a meet, not a race, he thought to himself as he nodded and turned for the patio. The sun was strong, glinting off the pool's surface. The soles of his slides slapped against the stones as he walked down to the corner where Nana sat. Dad was worried about her. So was Evy. They didn't say it, but he knew. So did Nicola.

Nana was sitting on the wooden bench in the corner. She didn't look up until he dropped down to sit next to her. It was kind of incredible, the way her face changed from extreme concentration to startled surprise. A moment later, a tired smile came to her face as she rubbed her forehead. "How was your day, darling?"

He shrugged. "It was ok." She nodded, watching him closely. He thought she looked tired. Suddenly, he remembered Christmas Eve. How happy she was. How happy they _all_ were. It seemed like a _lifetime_ ago. "How was your day?" He was curious. Dad, Evy, and Bette were with her all day, every day. Now, this new guy, Morris, was hanging around. It was insane. She never had a moment to be by herself.

The corners of her mouth curled up as she leaned back against the bench. "Oh, I don't know, darling," she sighed as she reached out and took his hand.

He sat still, watching her hand in his. Her shoulder was a little better, just like Dad promised him and Nicola. "You," he began softly, "should rest. Rest and get better." His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of his next sentence. He squeezed her hand as he whispered, "Poppop would've wanted that." He heard her stop breathing as her eyes flickered to his. A moment later, her eyes shined as she nodded sharply. "He would've insisted on it." But, it was true. Poppop loved Nana more than anyone.

She sighed and looked back out at the pool. "You're right. He would have."

He nodded and looked out, watching the pool too. A tiny thought whispered from the back of his mind and he shook his head. Maybe he should've talked to Dad first. Nah. Poppop always said only losers second guessed themselves. _If you know what you want Harrison, take it. Take it before someone else does._ "Hey, Nana? I-I was wondering something." She looked over, her lips turned down into a frown. "Do you think- I mean, could I go to the club and play golf? Could I go wi-without…" His throat closed and he inhaled sharply, feeling hot tears burning at his eyes.

Her mouth tightened as she nodded, tears dulling her eyes. "Of course, darling. Poppop would've wanted that. He-he would've insisted on it." He nodded and reached up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

* * *

 _Evy_

She stood by the front door, her hand on the knob. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Morris lead Mom down the hall to her office. She'd lost count of how many times he's been by since Dad's funeral. The door to Mom's office closed firmly and her frown deepened. What was his deal? And, what was he doing with Mom? Why didn't Mom want to talk with him in the living room?

Slugs.

Bette was right.

They were all slugs.

The front door opened quickly and slammed into her right shoulder. "OW! What the- oh, Casey. It's you."

She rubbed her shoulder as Casey and Nicola walked in, radiating pain shooting down her arm. "Sorry," her older brother replied. "Why were you standing in front of the door?"

"I'm going to find Harrison, Daddy."

He nodded as Nicola ran up the stairs. "Morris got here a few minutes ago. He and Mom just went into her office.

He sighed deeply and pushed the door shut. "Him. _Again_."

She spun around, watching as he stalked into the living room. He was in a bad mood. Instantly, she forgot the pain in her shoulder as she followed him over to the sofa. "He bugs you too?"

He exhaled deeply and flung his arm over his eyes. "Not bugs. Just…something. I don't know what. But, there's something."

She flopped on the sofa next to him and hugged one of the pillows to her chest. "You know, Dad never mentioned him. Not once. Neither did Mom until he showed up here a few weeks ago." But now, suddenly, this man – this stranger – was a constant fixture at their house. _Dad's_ house.

"Cait said she remembered him," he sighed as his face turned. "Well, sort of. She remembered playing with his daughter, Maya."

Slugs. "That was _how_ many years ago?"

Another sigh. God, all Casey did anymore these days was sigh. "I don't know. Bette said he was ok. Said he was the best man at Gregory and Olivia's wedding."

Well, that she knew. She and Nicola had gone searching in the attic for old photos of Dad. She had found a box of photos from Mom and Dad's wedding and seen Morris standing with them. She frowned. "You were at their wedding too. Want to vouch for him too?"

His arm fell away as he sighed again, deeper this time. "Evy…"

She reached out and swung the pillow into his chest. "Snap out of it, Casey!" He pulled the pillow out of her grasp and shoved it into the corner. She frowned and reached out, putting her hand on his arm. Her brother's face was pale as he glared up at the ceiling. She had been _so_ worried about Mom since getting back from New York. But now, she wondered if her older brother didn't merit the same level of concern. "Hey, are you ok? What's wrong?"

He shook his head and turned to her. "Ben wants Olivia to turn her attention to Liberty."

She nodded, forcing the sudden memory of her conversation from the other day with Benjy out of her mind. "Bette told me he's left her a couple of messages. I told her to give them to Mom's secretary. Liberty is the _last_ thing she needs to be thinking about right now."

"Well, Ben disagrees," he said softly and she frowned.

"Well, that's just too bad," she sniffed, folding her arms tight against her chest. "He's just going to need to deal." She cleared her throat and forced a smile to her face. "Hey, let's do something. Tonight. Let's go out." He started to shake his head and she grabbed his arm, shaking it energetically. "No, really! You and I haven't been out since I got back and…and I think we need it. Come on, one drink! Two tops!"

A ghost of a smile danced through his beleaguered expression. "Since when do you drink?"

She punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Since I became a college freshman. Obviously." He chuckled, a tired one that segued into a sigh, but it didn't matter. She got him to laugh. Now, if only she could get Mom to laugh too.

But, that…that would take far more work.

* * *

 _Morris_

He placed the thick accordion file folder on the coffee table. Olivia's eyes flickered to it as he explained, "I called UCLA. Spoke to a secretary named Debbie in the Department of Linguistics." She nodded, but said nothing else as she continued to watch the file. "She gave my information to a graduate student who was taking on extra work doing translations."

She cleared her throat. "A student?" she asked softly.

He chuckled, the tips of his fingers pressed together. "Rebecca. She was so grateful for the work, she did her own research and found additional articles about the accident." Slowly, she reached out with her left hand and gently unwound the string holding the cover down. Like an avalanche, sheets of white paper spilled out and fanned across the table. He heard her sigh and his own hand came out. With his palm splayed on top of the file, his voice was low as he asked, "Are you _sure_ you want to read these?"

Her face turned as she sighed his name. "I want- I _need_ to remember." She shook her head as her expression collapsed and she gasped, "I can't think of anything else. I've imagined _dozens_ of-"

He frowned as her eyes burned into his, imploring him to understand. With a sigh, he pulled his hand away from the file. "Before you read them, let me tell you what I'm doing next." She nodded slowly and sat up as he continued, "I reached out to an old friend of ours. She's going to use her contacts to expedite our request for copies of the Italian police reports." A moment of silence passed, long enough for confusion to replace the pain crinkling at the end of her eyes. But, only slightly. "Jeannie Harris. She's long retired, but-"

"Jeannie Harris," she repeated softly. She lowered her head, turning her face into her left shoulder. As she looked up again, she exhaled deeply as she looked back at the folder of articles. As her fingers pulled the top one from the pile, she asked, "Will you stay with me while I read them?"

He nodded and sat back against the sofa. A tiny, but sad, smile curled her lips as she settled into the opposite end of the sofa. He watched her begin to read the article and that's when he realized.

It was the first time he had seen her smile since he reentered her life.


	8. Well, I Want

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eight: "Well, I Want"

 _Evy_

Her ponytail bounced against the back of her head as she ran through downtown. The music from her ear buds thundered in her ears, syncing with the way her feet pounded the pavement. She had always liked running down Ocean Avenue. The street ran parallel to the beach, stretching from the residential area where the house was all the way down through the center of the town. The breeze off the ocean usually cut through the heavy warmth, making the southern California temperatures tolerable. It was the perfect weather. She was a California girl to the core.

 _Mom forced a bright smile and hugged her tight, the street traffic drowning out the sob that rose in her throat. "Mom," she sighed, squeezing her back, "I'll be ok."_

 _She looked up quickly, brushing away the tears from her blue eyes. "I know, darling. I know." She found herself nodding as Mom cleared her throat. "Promise me you'll keep warm."_

 _She laughed and squeezed Mom's hands as they stood in front of the hotel. "Are you kidding? It's freakishly humid and hot here! I mean, thank God my dorm has air conditioning!"_

 _Dad squeezed the back of her neck as he rejoined them, finally through with supervising his and Mom's luggage being packed into the trunk of the chauffeured car. "She means in the fall when it gets cold," he answered before he wrapped his arm around Mom's shoulders._

" _Darling, don't tease me. She's_ _not_ _used to the cold weather," Mom said to him as he rubbed her arm._

" _I'll carry my sweatshirt with me," she promised, ignoring the smirk on Dad's face._

" _Especially_ _when you go for a run, darling," Mom insisted as she leaned against Dad._

 _She nodded and reached out, hugging both of them with each arm. "I promise," she replied as they hugged her in return. Sandwiched between them, she closed her eyes and lingered in their embrace for a long moment. It would be awhile before they stood like this again._

She shook her head and reached up, clicking the button on the cord to increase the volume. Running through Central Park this past fall was _nothing_ like this. The gentle hills, the curve of the paths, the fallen leaves crunching beneath her feet. The music vibrated in her skull as she set her jaw, her eyes darkening. Dad had been right. She might have been a California girl, but she loved New York City. She loved living there.

Dad had been right about everything.

The shadow of another runner appeared on the side walk next to hers and she looked up. Benjy Evans smiled back at her and held up his hand in a wave. Her pace didn't change but she felt the shiver that went down her spine. She glanced over, watching the way he turned back to the road as he ran alongside her. After a moment, he glanced back and she saw herself reflected in the dark lenses of his sunglasses. Her reflection startled her and she forced herself to look away. _Why_ was she grinning at him like a moron?

(Because he's cute, the voice in her head insisted.)

She _barely_ knew him.

(Don't be stupid, Evelyn. He's not a stranger. You've known him your whole life.)

They didn't have _anything_ in common.

(You're both running down Ocean Avenue. There. Common ground. Literally.)

He was _older_ than her.

(Big deal. Dad was older than Mom.)

She was only back home for a few months before she went _back_ to New York.

(Keep. In. Touch. Snapchat. Instagram. FaceTime. Game. Set. Match.)

The playlist streaming on her phone stopped, signaling the end of her run. She slowed to a stop, pulling out her earbuds. It was another moment or two before Benjy realized she was no longer running alongside him. As she pressed her hands into her waist, she took a deep breath as he trotted over to her. "Hey, Evy."

She pressed her hands into her cheeks, trying in vain to stop herself from beaming at him. "Hey, Benjy. I didn't know you were a runner."

He shrugged, slowly walking alongside her as they cooled down. "Running here is different than running through Berkeley."

With a nod, she draped her earbuds around her neck and smoothed her hair back. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Running in Central Park was _so_ different."

He nodded and a comfortable silence stretched between them. She peeked over at him, watching as he stretched his arms across his chest one at a time. She cleared her throat, ignoring the sheen of sweat on his bare arms as she heard him ask, "You run every morning?"

She nodded. "Since I've been home, I mean. It's not like I've got a whole lot else going on."

His voice dropped solemnly as he asked, "How's your mom doing?"

With a deep sigh, she shrugged. "Her shoulder is getting better," she said diplomatically. But, it was true. Physically, Mom _was_ doing better. She hadn't needed painkillers for the last two weeks. The physical therapist was happy with how her scapula was healing. She could move her right arm more and didn't need the sling practically at all. But, as for everything else…

"That's good," he said with a smile. She nodded, watching as he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. "So, maybe- maybe we can run tomorrow? Together?" The muscles of her stomach tightened as she watched him silently. "You know, keep our minds off how different Sunset Beach is from New York and Berkeley?"

He liked her. She knew her name. She knew the sky was blue. She _knew_ he liked her. _Always play hard to get, darling_. Mom's words danced through her as she shook her head. His face fell and he sighed deeply as she said, "I don't think so. I don't like talking when I run."

His face suddenly lit up as he stepped closer, pulling his sunglasses off. "Well, what if we run together in – wait for it – _silence_?" She looked away, her head cocked as if she was thinking. Her heart pounded in her chest and thundered in her ears as she heard him fill the silence with, "We can get breakfast at _Dolce_ after." She glanced back, feeling her lips curl into a smile as he continued, "You know, coffee. Pancakes. The whole nine."

She folded her arms against her chest. "Pancakes?" she scoffed. "Ugh, carb central."

He laughed. "Well, I want pancakes. But, I had a feeling you were all about the avocado toast."

She shook her head and giggled as she replied, "Avocado toast is _so_ last year. I leveled up to quinoa breakfast bowls."

"What do you know?" he marveled softly. " _Dolce_ has those on the menu."

As she ran her arm across her forehead, she allowed herself to say, "Ok, I guess. I'll meet you at the corner of Ocean and Bridge tomorrow at eight." He grinned and she couldn't help grinning in return.

He liked her…

…and, she _might_ like him.

* * *

 _Sean_

He rubbed his face as he walked into the kitchen. He flew in yesterday, determined to spend as much time with Mom as possible for the two-and-a-half days he was in Sunset Beach. Daily phone calls with her just _hadn't_ reassured him. Hell, Evy was concerned enough that she withdrew from college. But, now, the house was quiet. He heard his sister leave an hour ago. Casey left a short time ago to take Harrison and Nicola to school. Bette hadn't arrived yet. Mom was still sleeping…or, at least she was in her room feigning sleep.

His phone chimed and he looked down, swiping the screen. Caitlin. He tapped the bubble, opening her text message. _How's Mom? Evy isn't answering me and Casey said he was out dropping the kids off._ With a sigh, he quickly typed out a reply, hoping it would reassure his older sister. He knew she was as worried as him, only she couldn't visit Sunset Beach the way he could. She was on doctor-ordered bed rest until her fourth child was born. With a pang, he turned his phone over and leaned over the counter, his head in his hands. Caitlin's new baby wouldn't know Dad. His own youngest child wouldn't remember Dad at all.

From behind him, he heard the rumble of the automatic garage door opening and he stood tall, rubbing his face. With a deep exhale, he turned around as the interior door opened and Evy walked in. Her cheeks were still rosy from her run, but she was breathing evenly. "Hi!" she said, flashing him a dazzling smile as she hugged him quickly.

"Wow," he exclaimed, squeezing her tight before she stepped back. "You're in a great mood. Good run?" Her only reply was another ear-to-ear smile and he watched her for a long moment. She seemed almost…like herself again. Not the quiet and sad girl he had driven to the airport the day after Dad's funeral.

 _"I can walk you to your gate," he said, squeezing her hand as he balanced Hope on his hip. They stood in the middle of the terminal, after his wife and three other children left for their gate on a different concourse._

 _His younger sister shook her head as his daughter wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll be fine," she murmured._

 _Her mirrored aviator sunglasses made it impossible for him to see her eyes and figure out if she_ _really_ _was as fine as she claimed to be. "I don't mind," he insisted. "Hope likes the planes and-"_

 _"Please, Sean." She looked up at him, her blonde hair messily tucked into a faded Yankees hat. He sighed, remembering the last time he had gone with Dad and Evy to the Bronx for a game. It was in the new stadium and it had been a good day. The late spring weather was perfect. The Yankees won. Mom and Shasta came with them to New York, but they had gone shopping instead of coming to the ball game. "I need…"_

 _"Need what?" he asked, watching as she pulled her hand free and wiped her cheeks. Hope's arms squeezed tighter around his neck and he felt her face turn into him._

 _As he rubbed his half-asleep daughter's back, Evy said, "I need to be alone. I'm tired of talking."_

 _He nodded slowly and reached out, hugging her against him. She trembled and he whispered in her ear, "Text me then from your gate. Text me until you board the plane and turn off your phone."_

 _"Sean…"_

 _"Please, Evy." She looked up slowly and he wondered if she could hear how tight his voice suddenly became. With a small nod, she hugged him quickly. He watched the transformation as she forced a bright smile to her face. "Bye, baby!" she said, pushing herself on her toes so she could kiss Hope's forehead._

 _"Bye, Aunt Evy," he heard his daughter murmur sleepily._

 _As quickly as it appeared, the smile faded from his sister's face as she looked back at him. Like the rest of the family, they had tried to do a good job faking it for the children. But, it couldn't be sustained for long. He watched her turn from him, gripping the straps of her shoulder bag as she walked away._

"What's in here?" she asked brightly, pulling the top off the small cardboard box.

He sighed internally and rubbed his mouth. "Some stuff Shasta sent for Mom."

" _Oh_?" He winced, hearing the way her voice rose to a teasing pitch. "TSA let you bring her potions through security?" He shook his head, ignoring her playful dig, as she continued, "Has Mom seen it?"

He rolled his eyes as she began to root through it. "No. She's still asleep."

With a quick glance down at her smart watch, she nodded. "She hasn't been coming down until after nine most mornings." She pulled out one of the bundles of dried sage and held it to her nose. "Actually," she said after she inhaled deeply, "she _might_ like this. It smells nice. Kind of reminds me of Tahoe."

He grimaced, anticipating her reaction as he explained, "It's for smudging. You burn it to clear out the bad energy."

Evy watched him in silent disbelief for a long moment before she burst out laughing. He was unsurprised. His wife's homeopathic tendencies often ran aground with his more conservative family. "Oh, Sean," she gasped as she clasped her hands over her heart, "that's beautiful. Really _beautiful_."

There was that sarcasm she had inherited from Dad. He shook his head and playfully punched her arm. "Hey! Remember, that's the mother of your nieces and nephews you're making fun of."

"Shhh," she said as her hands dramatically fluttered out around her. "I'm clearing out the bad energy."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." His phone chimed and he had a strong feeling it was another text message from Caitlin. He cleared his throat, thinking back to his discussion late last night with Casey. They agreed on their sisters. "Hey, Evy," he began, letting his voice drop to a serious tone, "what's going on with you and Cait?"

The transformation was instantaneous. Evy's face turned as she dropped the sage back into the box and folded her arms against her chest. "Why? What has _she_ said?"

Her questions were so cold, so uncharacteristic of her that he was momentarily stunned. Well. It seemed Casey was right on where things stood with their youngest sister. He knew where things stood with Caitlin. "She hasn't said anything," he said, hoping a half-lie could keep the peace. "But, I've noticed you and she have gone _out_ of your way to not mention each other."

Her eyes darkened and he saw the way the line of her jaw tightened. He was suddenly reminded of Dad and the way he reacted when he donated his BMW to charity. He inhaled sharply, struck by how much Evy resembled their father, as she sighed, "She has gotten _so_ bossy! Like: _don't let Mom do this_. Or: _make sure Mom does this_. My all-time favorite was: _How could you leave school, Evy? You're_ _only_ _going to make Mom worry about you!_ "

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, you _both_ are _so_ much like Dad."

Her eyes flickered to his. "Sean, she thinks she's in _charge_ of this family now that Dad's dead!"

"She doesn't. She doesn't any more than _you_ think you're in charge." She rolled her eyes and looked away. "You both are _so_ much like Dad," he repeated as he reached out, touching her shoulder gently. "Always thinking about taking care of Mom, of all of us. Just like Dad did." His throat swelled as she slowly looked back at him. "He only _ever_ thought about Mom, about all of us. But, _always_ Mom first." She nodded, blinking rapidly, as he dropped his voice to a whisper and said, "I used to think he was bossy and overbearing. And, sometimes, he could be. But, I know now it was only because he loved us. Just like _you_ love us. Just like _Caitlin_ loves us." She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes as she sighed. "So, give Caitlin a break. Ok?"

Her brown eyes flickered to his. "You going to tell _her_ to give me a break too?"

He bit back a retort and nodded slowly. "Yes, Evy. I will." He reached into the box and pulled out a sage bundle. "Now, come on. Let's go light this bad boy."

A small giggle rose in her throat as she said, "We should wait until Mom comes down. I can't wait to see her reaction to all this."

* * *

 _Casey_

He rubbed his face, wincing at the way the rough stubble scratched his palm. He needed to take care of that before Diana arrived at the end of the month for a visit. If she were here now, she would've pushed him into the bathroom, stood in the doorway, and refused to move _until_ he shaved.

As he neared Olivia's office, he saw the door was half-open. He lingered in the crack, watching as Morris passed her a legal-sized envelope. Despite his initial misgivings, and Evy's ongoing suspicion, he had to grudgingly admit…Morris was alright. Maybe it was because Ben's demands were at the forefront of his mind. The conversation with him the other day. The daily messages, one for him _and_ one for Olivia. The email from this morning. In comparison, Morris had been _nothing_ but deferential and respectful of Olivia's feelings. Quite frankly, he was benign in comparison to Ben. In fact, he had begun to think it was _good_ that Morris was a daily visitor. He was a touchstone to Gregory in a way that he and Evy weren't.

He frowned and rapped on the door frame, pushing the door all the way open. "Hey," he said as Morris stood and Olivia looked up. "Sorry to interrupt, but-"

"It's alright," Morris interrupted. "I was on my way out anyway."

Olivia reached out, taking his hand. "Thank you, Morris."

He watched Morris pat her hand and smile kindly, but he said nothing else. She swallowed deeply and nodded as he gently let go of her hand. "Casey, have a good afternoon."

He shook his hand and nodded. "See you tomorrow, Morris." When he left, he closed the door quietly and turned back to his stepmother. "How's the shoulder feeling after this morning's PT appointment?"

She shrugged and gently raised her right arm over her head. "A little stiff, but it doesn't hurt," she said softly as she made a slow circle with her arm. He sat in the arm chair next to the sofa where she sat and sighed deeply. How could he even begin? "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

The reply was out of his mouth before he could think, before he stop himself. "Everything." Well. That probably _wasn't_ the best way to begin. He grimaced as he watched her sigh.

Slowly, she reached out and took his hand. "I know," she murmured, watching him carefully. "When my mother passed away, my father was completely devastated." Her eyes glazed over and he could see a memory from long ago waltz across her face. "In an attempt to comfort him, I told him things would get easier a little bit each day." She scoffed and turned back to him. "How _utterly_ naïve- no, how _wrong_ I was to say that to him."

He shook his head. "You tried to help him. The same way Cait, Sean, and Evy are trying to help you."

With a gentle squeeze, she replied, "You meant to say, 'Caitlin, Sean, Evy, _and I_ are trying to help you'."

He nodded shortly and pulled his hand back as he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "You might not include me in that when you hear what I have to say." Her eyes crinkled as she looked back at him. "I saw Ben the other day." A shadow fell over face as if she suddenly saw the road he was taking her down.

The long moment of silence concluded with one word from her: "Liberty."

He nodded. "He said decisions need to be made. That you're the majority shareholder now and he can't make decisions without you."

She leaned back in the sofa, resting her head against the back. "Without _us_ ," she murmured. He cocked his head as she continued, "Your share is nothing to ignore."

 _No one has any experience until they start. We'll get to work when Olivia and I get back from Italy._ He cleared his throat and swallowed past the boulder suddenly lodged there. "I don't know anything about Liberty," he forced himself to say. Her eyes flickered to his as he continued, "And, well, I want…I mean, I asked- I wanted Gregory to-"

"I know," she whispered, saving him from the struggle of explaining how much he had been looking forward to working with Gregory. He shouldn't have been surprised Gregory told her he wanted to learn about Liberty. And, he wasn't. Not really. Instead, it was just a reminder of how suddenly their lives had changed. How quickly their plans disappeared into a puff of smoke. She sighed his name and sat up slowly. "Of the four of you, I feel saddest for you," she said softly. He felt himself pale as she continued, "Caitlin, Sean, and Evy had Gregory their entire lives. They have a _lifetime_ of memories. But, you…you only had him just over a year."

Almost fifteen months. Gregory had been his father for almost fifteen months when he died. He nodded and leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees as his head spun. As he gasped back a sob, he felt Olivia's hand on the back of his neck. Her palm was warm against his flesh as he heard her say, "I'm sorry you didn't get more time with him."

He wiped his eyes as he glared at the carpet beneath his feet. He should have. He was _supposed_ to. With a deep sigh, he rubbed his face with both hands and forced himself to sit up. Her face was awash with anguish as she gazed back at him, her mouth drawn in a thin line. "Me too," he said, his jaw tense and tight.

She leaned against the arm of the sofa, slowly rolling her right shoulder. "None of us were ready," she murmured, pressing her hand into her forehead. "We weren't expecting him to…" He glanced over as she trailed off, aimlessly twisting her necklace. "I think that's why it hurts so much more this way. We weren't prepared to lose him. Not yet."

"Not yet," he repeated softly as he blinked.

With a deep sigh, she sat up and said reluctantly, "So, Ben thinks it time I got back to work?"

He cleared his throat. "He's not the only one who needs things from you. The estate lawyer, the accountant, the insurance company, the bank, the stockbroker…they _all_ need something from you."

The corners of her mouth raised in a sad mockery of a smile. "Bette and Evy have done an outstanding job of managing my messages, haven't they?"

"With their stubbornness and their iPhones, the two of them could rule the _world_ ," he murmured.

Her eyes dulled as she leaned forward, almost as if she wanted to share a secret with him. "I know I won't be half the teacher to you that Gregory would have been…and, for that, I'm sorry."

He sighed, surprised by the seriousness with which she apologized to him. "Olivia, Gregory trusted you more than anyone. He left _everything_ to you." He shrugged and met her eyes as he concluded, "If he trusted you with his Liberty stocks, then I trust you with mine."

She blinked as her throat worked. "Thank you, Casey."

* * *

 _Bette_

The bartender slid a new glass of Chardonnay across the bar and she beamed as she looked up. "Todd, _this_ – this right here – this is why you're my favorite. I _never_ need to ask you for a second glass."

He leaned against the polished wood and flashed her his trademark megawatt grin. "Now see, I thought it was my charming personality and good looks that made me your favorite."

She smirked and raised the glass to her lips. "Well, those too."

He winked and turned away. The buttery Chardonnay was smooth down her throat as she looked back up, scanning the tables at _Grenadine's_. Her column had been woefully neglected for almost two months. Though now, thanks to social media, her column was a living, breathing, real-time force of nature. With Olivia slowly getting better and Sean in town, she had left the Richards family to themselves tonight. Tonight, on all her social media platforms, it was time to get the Queen of the Night back in circulation.

She put her glass aside and pulled her tablet closer, quickly typing out a note about the couple in the corner table. "My, my, my," she murmured, "how quickly they moved on from their ex-spouses."

 _"As I live and breathe…this can't be Bette Gordon."_

She glanced up sharply. "You're a few husbands behind, fella," she said, feeling a spark of recognition in the face of the man at her left elbow.

With a chuckle, he glanced down and smoothed out his tie. "Has it really been that long?" he asked softly, moving closer to her.

Her brain raced as a playful smirk lit up his face. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it all made sense. She gasped aloud, her hand coming to her mouth. "AJ?"

His smirk widened as he extended his arms, as if presenting himself for inspection. "The one and only," he said as he reached out, catching her hand as it fell away from her mouth. A moment later, she felt his lips brush against her knuckles as he murmured, "It's wonderful to see you again, Bette."

She shook her head slowly, still _beyond_ surprised to see him in Sunset Beach. She hadn't seen him in this town since the early 1970s. "What are you doing here?" she gasped, unable to keep the bewilderment from coloring her question.

With a gentle squeeze, he let go of her hand and smiled again. "The mayor has named me honorary chair of the town's centennial committee." She watched as he glanced around, almost modestly. "It was somewhat touching he asked me. It's a wonderful way to honor all my father did to incorporate the town."

"I'm sure," she mused.

He leaned against the bar, his knee brushing her leg. "Think of it. The Great War was still ravaging Europe in 1917. My father, Armando, came to California, something of a pioneer, and saw a future in this small stretch of sand." He smiled warmly and sighed deeply. "The centennial ball in July will be a celebration of him, the Deschanel name, _and_ the town."

She grinned and leaned in. "Care to go on the record for my column?"

He chuckled and shook his head, drumming his fingers against the bar. "Not quite yet," he said, his voice dropping. "But, I'll see to it you get an exclusive when the mayor announces the centennial committee the day after tomorrow."

"I'll clear my calendar," she said in a playful whisper.

"I look forward to it." He stood tall and smoothed out his suit coat. When he looked back up, she saw a suddenly somber expression on his face. "I heard the unfortunate news about Gregory Richards." She nodded slowly, but said nothing as he continued, "I would be remiss if I didn't ask how poor Olivia was doing?"

She sighed. "As well as can be expected," she said softly.

He sighed and covered her hand with his own. "Please extend my deepest sympathies to her the next time you see her."

"I will," she said softly before he squeezed her hand and turned away without another word. She exhaled deeply as she massaged her temples. " _A Deschanel in Sunset Beach Again_ ," she mused, opening an app on her tablet. "No. _Sunset Beach's Native Son Returns_." She nodded, pleased with her first line as she began composing a tweet dedicated to AJ's reappearance in town.

* * *

 _Evy_

She walked up the stairs, leaving her brothers behind on the patio with some of Dad's cigars. Their laughter and deep voices echoed in the still night and she couldn't help the grin on her face. It was a good night. A good _day_. The first one she remembered since mid-January. Instantly, her face fell. Was this what moving on felt like? Dad was still dead, but things were starting – _almost_ – to feel normal again.

As she turned onto the second floor, she passed the rooms where Harrison and Nicola slept. She ignored the door to her own bedroom and walked down to the end of the hall where the master suite was. Mom seemed different at dinner. Of course, Mom had been holed up with Morris before dinner, then Casey went in to talk with her. At the table, she was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. No, it was her face. It was the expression on her face. She looked like someone intently focused on a puzzle, but who was nowhere near completing it. She knocked on the door, waiting until she heard Mom say, "Come in, Evy."

Her face turned as she opened the door. "How did you know it was me?" she asked, stepping in and closing it softly behind her.

Mom's tired expression looked back at her from the bed. "I can hear – and _smell_ – Casey and Sean from the patio." Her own eyes flickered to the open windows as Mom continued, "The children are asleep."

" _Such_ a genius," she murmured. As she crossed the room to the bed, her eyes were drawn to the urn sitting in the center of the triple dresser. She reached out, her hand resting on the lid for a long moment. With a sigh, she felt a tremor go through her as she waited to feel something – _anything_ – of Dad in the gold container. But, she didn't. There was nothing. Just an emptiness as big as Dad was when he was alive. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Mom watching her with an unreadable expression on her face. "Sorry," she sighed, pulling her hand back as she walked over to the bed.

"It's alright, darling," she murmured as she crawled across Dad's side of the bed and lay her head in Mom's lap. "You know, I think Daddy would be disappointed to have ended up on the dresser next to my jewelry box."

She shrugged as Mom's left hand ran over her hair. "I don't think so. He's on the dresser in _your_ room. _I_ think he would've wanted to be wherever _you_ were."

With a sad sigh, Mom looked up and watched the urn for a long moment. "Perhaps." She sighed again, one that was deeper and longer, as her eyes turned down to hers.

She reached out, caught Mom's right hand, and squeezed it gently. "Mom?" she asked. "What's the deal with Morris?" It had to be him that caused Mom's silence at dinner. Nothing Casey could ever do would've caused it.

Mom's blue eyes crinkled. "What do you mean, darling?"

She shrugged, letting Mom's fingers comb through her hair. He's here every single afternoon. He appeared out of the blue. Dad never mentioned him. There's something you're _not_ telling me. "You and he were in your office for a long time today," she finally said. Mom sighed deeply and she turned her eyes away, looking instead at Dad's perfectly made side of the bed. "He's here every single day. What does he want?" she finally asked.

Mom shook her head slightly, but didn't look at her. "He doesn't want anything, Evy." she replied softly. She leaned back against the intricately carved headboard, the wood cracking and creaking in the silence. "It's what I want – _need_ – from him."

She frowned, confused. "Mom, what could you possibly need from a man you haven't seen in years?" Slowly, Mom looked down at her. There was _that_ expression again. There _was_ something she wasn't saying. Something like…a secret. None of this made sense. What was she keeping from her? "Mom?"

She sighed, her hand still running over her hair. "I asked Morris to help me translate some articles from an Italian newspaper."

About the accident. She was still trying to remember. "Mom, why would you do-"

"I _don't_ need your permission, Evelyn," she replied sharply.

A chill went through her as Mom's voice echoed in the silence. _You both are so much like Dad. Always thinking about taking care of Mom, of all of us._ Their eyes met as she squeezed her right hand again. She suddenly remembered how irritated Mom was a few weeks ago when they were looking at old photos with Casey and Nicola. Mom didn't want to be babied. "I'm sorry, Mom. Of course you don't." She sighed, trying a different approach. "I just meant…why didn't you ask _me_ to help? Or Casey?"

Mom's expression smoothed out to one of calm. "I think- I think your father," she began, "wouldn't have wanted you or Casey to read the details in them." Her voice was soft as she continued, " _I_ don't either."

"Ok," she whispered back. A long heartbeat pulsed between them before she asked, "Was that why you and Morris were in your office for so long?"

"In a way." She waited for her to say more, but she didn't.

"Mom? Please tell me," she said softly. "I want- I want to understand. And, even if I can't read the articles, I want to help." Mom's blue eyes narrowed as she continued, "I want to help _you_. And, I- I _won't_ tell Casey, Cait, or Sean."

With a small sigh, Mom nodded. Her hand rested atop the crown of her head as she began, "In one of the articles…there was a man who found us aft- after the car accident." She nodded, listening intently as Mom's voice cracked. "He was the one who pulled me out of the car." Mom stopped speaking abruptly as her expression fell, her face suddenly pale. "He gave an interview to the newspaper a-and he said that your father told him to help me first," she murmured as she lowered her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut, listening as Mom's breathing became short and choppy. _He only_ _ever_ _thought about Mom, about all of us_. She felt Mom's hand tremble within hers and she gripped it, forcing her eyes open. "Th- that sounded like something Dad would say," she croaked, seeing Mom nod.

"This man _spoke_ to Daddy. He was the last one who _did_ ," she continued, brushing at her swollen eyes. "I don't know if he said anything else or if he can tell me something that might help me remember. I asked Morris to find him for me."

Slowly, she sat up and hugged her mother. It was something to feel _both_ of Mom's arms hug her back. For almost the last two months, she had been used to her one-armed hugs. With a gentle squeeze, she looked up and nodded reassuringly. "I understand, Mom," she whispered as Mom cupped her chin. "It'll be our secret. I _promise_."

"Secrets," Mom murmured, tucking a blonde lock of hair behind her ears. It was a comforting gesture that instantly made her feel like a little child again. When Mom would brush her hair off her face when she would run off the soccer field at half-time. "Secrets used to get me in trouble."

"Not anymore though." She sat up on Dad's side of the bed and leaned against the headboard. " _And_ …I have a secret too," she said teasingly, gently locking her left arm with Mom's right one.

"Oh?"

She nodded and grinned, suddenly desperate to give Mom something else to focus on, if only for a few minutes. "I went running this morning…and I saw Benjy."

She glanced up, watching as Mom gazed blankly back at her. "Benjy," she repeated softly. "Benjy Evans?"

With another nod, she curled into the pillows as she said, "He asked if he could run with me tomorrow morning. Then, he's going to take me to breakfast." She was quiet for a long moment before she heard Mom scoff. "What?" she laughed, so delighted to hear something that sort of sounded like laughter from Mom for the first time in almost two months that she didn't even comment on it.

"Oh," she marveled as she met her eyes, "I'm just thinking how _different_ you are from me." She rolled her eyes as Mom continued, "I _never_ would've worn gym clothes on my first date with Daddy."

She giggled and leaned against her. A moment later, Mom's right arm wrapped around her. As she snuggled against her, she teased, "I mean, have you even _ever_ worn gym clothes?" For as long as she could remember, Mom had always been immaculately dressed, even when she would come to her Saturday morning soccer games.

"Not since I was a child," she sniffed and she looked up with a smile.

"Besides," she continued, "I'm _not_ ready to call this a first date." She grinned when Mom frowned, like she was confused. "I pulled an Olivia Richards and played hard to get."

She rolled her eyes and drew her closer. "Just…just be careful, darling." Now, it was her turn to frown and be confused as she continued, "Be careful with Benjy."

"Why?" she asked.

But, Mom only shrugged vaguely. "Don't rush into anything with him. You're going back to school in a few months. And, what about What's-His-Name? The boy you were going on and on about at Christmas?"

She paused. Danny. She had forgotten about him after Dad died. She hadn't even seen him when she was in New York for the few days it took to pack up her dorm room, store her belongings in a storage unit, and sort out her withdrawal request. He had texted her a few times, but she never responded. He must have gotten the message, because she hadn't heard from him in more than a month. Besides, returning to school was months away, she thought to herself. _Months_. "He wasn't so important, I guess," she said softly.


	9. Can't Hide

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Nine: "Can't Hide"

 _May 2017_

I blinked in the quiet as the space around me transitioned from sleep to blurriness to awake to recognition. Our bedroom. The bedroom we've spent our entire married lives, minus the six months we lived as newlyweds in Gregory's condominium at the marina club. Lazy beams of sunlight fell in familiar patterns, staining the space. So, it was morning. Again.

With a single exhale, I turned my head, watching Gregory's half of the bed. He wasn't there. And, he hadn't been. Not for months. My right arm slipped out from beneath the sheets, my palm finding a home on his pillow. Even during my darkest descent into alcoholism, when I would wake up the foulest hangovers, waking then was never as painful as it was right _now_. As it had been every day for the last four months. When I opened my eyes. When I realized my husband was still dead. When my heart cleaved in half.

When I wondered why Gregory was still dead and I was still alive.

With my hand still on my husband's pillow, I turned back to the ceiling. It was a ridiculous thing to realize, but it made so much _sense_ the moment I did realize. But…I had always thought we would die together. Of course, one doesn't realize something as ridiculous as that until they're presented with the alternative they never knew they _didn't_ want. But, I couldn't picture anything outside of a life with Gregory. Couldn't imagine a world without him. After all, we shared our lives for more than forty years. Since he retired, we were together every single day. It was literally _impossible_ to think of us as separate people. "Gregory and Olivia," I murmured. See? In one single breath, there we were.

Why was Gregory dead?

Why was I alive?

Immediately, my eyes fell to the triple dresser. It stood across from the bed and possessed the cruelest reminder of my reality. The urn glowed in the sunlight, sparkling as if it was an artifact from ancient Rome in a museum. But, it wasn't. But, it wasn't Gregory either. How could it be? How could someone like Gregory, full of life and vigor and passion, be reduced to dust?

And, despite what our youngest child thought, he would _despise_ being relegated to the dresser and gathering dust next to my jewelry box. But, there was nowhere else for the urn to be but with me. Gregory, the urn, and Olivia. That took two breaths to say.

My right hand twitched against his pillow and I reached up, rubbing my right shoulder. But, it was fine. Healed. Never better. As if the car accident never happened. But, it did. I was healed, but Gregory was still dead. I closed my eyes and flinched, not happy with that set of circumstances.

Why was Gregory dead and I alive?

* * *

My bare feet padded down the bare staircase and I felt the way my nose sniffed the air. Casey was cooking breakfast for the children because Rose had the weekends off. Pancakes. Gregory made pancakes often for Caitlin and Sean when they were small. As they grew older, he grew busier, he and I drifted apart, and the pancakes stopped. I gripped the banister as I stopped abruptly, my lips parted. Had Gregory made pancakes for Evy? I suddenly couldn't remember.

"Hi, Nana."

My head jerked, coming back to the lingering aroma of pancakes as Nicola stood at the foot of the stairs. "Good morning, darling," I said softly as I forced my feet to move. She smiled up at me, her hair tied back in a long plait, as her arms went around my waist. Casey looked up as I hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She was an extremely affectionate child and had been for the entire year-and-a-half I knew her.

"Morning, Olivia! Hungry?" Casey called out as he flipped half-cooked pancakes on the skillet.

No. No, I'm not. I don't want them. They're not Gregory's pancakes. Instead, I just shook my head and glanced at the table. Harrison was sitting in his usual chair, intently staring at his tablet. He had his ear buds in too. He probably didn't even notice I entered the room. Teenage boys were like that. Sean had been. I cleared my throat as Nicola slipped deeper into my embrace and asked, "Do you know what time Evy got home last night?"

My youngest daughter was, unsurprisingly, not at the kitchen table. Casey shrugged and reached out, crunching a small piece of aluminum foil into a ball. Without a moment's hesitation, he tossed it across the room and I watched, somewhat amused, as it bounced lightly off Harrison's head. The teenage boy sighed, pulled out his ear buds, and looked up at his father. "What?"

"Say 'good morning' to Nana," Casey replied firmly.

Harrison sighed, deeper, as he turned to me. But, when our eyes met, his annoyed expression softened and he flashed me a small smile. "Morning, Nana." I only smiled in reply as he turned back to Casey, his annoyed expression returning. "So… _what_?"

"What time did Evy get home last night?" he asked his son.

The teenager shrugged and pressed one of the buds back to his left ear. "I dunno. Late? I think 2…or maybe 3."

As Harrison put the other bud back in his ear, I felt the frown bloom in my expression as I met Casey's face. It was a mirror of my own. My daughter was headstrong like her father. Once she's decided something, that's it. In the last few weeks, she's been out on so many dates with Benjy Evans that I've lost count. It's not something I'm thrilled about and, judging from the unhappy expression on Casey's face, neither is he.

He knows what I know. Half the town, at least those of us who lived here during the chaos, knows too. But Ben had his way and remade the truth. He made it disappear. He made Benjy into his son. His and Maria's. But, Benjy wasn't. He's the son of insane serial killer and his equally insane accomplice.

As Nicola slipped away, I sighed and rubbed the furrowed space between my eyebrows. My headstrong daughter appeared to be dating the son of a serial killer. If Gregory were here, he'd be _furious_. His reaction to Caitlin dating AJ Deschanel's son wouldn't even _compare_ to the way he would've erupted if he knew about Evy and Benjy. But, he didn't. There was no eruption.

Why was Gregory dead and I alive?

* * *

I've read these translated articles so often since Morris delivered them to me, I could recite several from memory. My eyes narrowed as I glanced away, rolling that realization around in my head. I couldn't remember the day my husband died, but I could memorize the articles about his death. Just _another_ in a long line of ridiculously unfair realizations I've had over the last several months.

Suddenly annoyed, I shoved the stack of translated articles away. I folded my arms against my chest, watching the way they fanned across the small coffee table in my office. As I leaned back into the sofa, the memorized words swirled in the silence. _I kneeled next to the driver, trying to pull open the door. But, it was stuck, jammed after the car rolled down the hill. But, the window was broken and I could see the man inside. He was awake, but he shook his head. He said to me, Help my wife first._ I looked down at my lap, those four words wrapping around my shattered heart.

Help. My. Wife. First.

Wasn't that _so_ like Gregory? I can recall hundreds – no, _thousands_ – of instances over the course of our life where he put himself last. _Help my wife first_. It was exactly what he would've said, what he would've done. And yet, in the face of the void that day has left in my memory, I can't picture it. The words ring false because I can't remember him saying them.

 _I pulled the woman from the vehicle, but she was barely conscious. Her head was bleeding. I was carrying her up the hill to the road when the car caught fire. Within seconds, it was an inferno. I- I couldn't go back for the man. He was lost_. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying in vain not to picture what that must've looked like. What that must've _sounded_ like. Gregory had been conscious. The man had spoken to him. Gregory knew what was coming, what was happening. But, he was trapped.

Why was Gregory dead and I alive?

Slowly, my eyes opened and I blinked back hot tears as I rubbed my now-healed right shoulder. Perhaps…perhaps the children, Bette, and Morris were right. Perhaps some things _were_ better left to a black hole, never to pass the event horizon. As I wiped my cheeks dry, I thought, not for the _first_ time, perhaps this was somehow Gregory's way of protecting me. Still. He'd chuckle sarcastically and roll his eyes if he knew I attributed my inability to remember to his intervention from the afterlife. As strict Christmas-and-Easter Catholics, we'd hardly proscribe to being faithful believers. But, if I believed in anything, I _believed_ in Gregory. In the way he would've done anything to keep me safe. Perhaps the blank spot in my memory _was_ his doing. He wouldn't want me to remember him consumed by fire, would he? What that must've _looked_ like. What that must've _sounded_ like.

There was an energetic knock and I looked up as Bette pushed open the door. "Hi, Toots," she said as she walked in, rubbing her hands. I don't know what I would've done without her. The children were wonderful and, oh, how they _tried_. The same way I had tried to help my father after my mother passed away. But, they didn't know. They didn't know the pain of suddenly losing the one who had been your friend, your lover, your protector, your everything. But, Bette…Bette did. She and Jeffrey might not have had exactly what Gregory and I had, but she knew what this horrific aftermath of shock and grief was like. She glanced down at the coffee table and nodded. "Doing some light reading, I see."

I shrugged, watching as she pushed the articles back into a neat stack. She sat on the edge of the coffee table and placed the articles in her lap as she leaned in. Her eyes moved over me carefully and I couldn't help the sigh that rose in my throat. "Morris still hasn't found the man that pulled me out of the car," I replied to the silent question brimming in her eyes. She nodded and reached out, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. "Don't you think that's odd?"

She shook her head, her hand still covering mine. "Not really, Toots. Italy is a big country and – what's the kid's name again?"

I cleared my throat, reciting the name from memory. "Gianni Cappello."

She shrugged. "Italy's a big country and that name sounds about as common over there as John Smith does here."

Perhaps. "What if I don't get to speak with him?" I asked. Bette's eyes turned as I continued, "What if he knows something that could help me remember?"

She patted my hand and smiled sadly. "Are you kidding me? The Big Guy will find him for you if he needs to fly over to Italy and personally knock on every Gianni Cappello's front door until he found the one that saved you." She meant it as a joke, but we both knew Morris would do that if it came to it. "Come on though. I have a _great_ idea."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Oh?"

She nodded, giving my hand another squeeze as her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "I'm treating you to lunch!"

Lunch. Outside this house. In a restaurant. Where everyone would stare. I shook my head. I could do without the spectacle, thank you very much. "Bette-"

"Can't say no. Muscles and Blondie think it's a great idea. _I_ think it's a great idea and not just because it was my idea!"

"You asked the _children_ for permission?" I marveled, somewhat insulted.

"Of course not!" she said quickly, but I could see the lie in her eyes. "I just had to make sure they didn't already have hot plans with you for today."

Bless her for trying. "Bette, I really-"

"Olivia." Whenever her tone grew grave and serious, it was impossible to ignore her. She was smart. She only ever reserved that voice for when it _really_ mattered. As our eyes met, she continued, "You _need_ to get out of this house. You haven't left it since Greggy's funeral except for the occasional doctor's appointment." She rubbed my hand as she continued, "What are you going to do if you don't come to lunch with me? Sit here? Torture yourself with these articles? Go through Gregory's inbox again and read the three emails he sent the morning of the accident? Stare at the listing of the villa you were scheduled to tour that day?"

I looked down, embarrassed, as a chill raced through my veins. She knew me too well. "Fine," I murmured. I cleared my throat and said, "Tell Hans we want a quiet corner table and don't you _dare_ prolong this ordeal by ordering dessert and cappuccino."

She beamed, despite the dessert restriction. "A quick and quiet lunch at a table where we won't be stared at or disturbed. Got it."

* * *

Bette's hand was at my elbow as she led me through Grenadine's. I can barely contain the tremor that goes through me, recalling all the times it was Gregory's hand on my elbow. "See?" I heard her whisper proudly as we arrived at the table. Indeed, it was in quiet and dim corner of the restaurant, the afternoon sunlight not reaching this far. "No one noticed us."

Slowly, I pulled my sunglasses from my face, blinking rapidly. As my eyes adjusted, I saw several people openly gaping and I cleared my throat, turning to her. "Everyone noticed," I murmured as I sat and reached for the menu the hostess held out. Blessedly, it was large enough to hold in front of me, shielding me from the prying eyes.

Bette glanced up at them, her glare crackling across the room. "Ugh, who cares about them? They're nobody." She reached over and patted my arm. "Forget them. Want to share a cheese board?"

"I'm not hungry." Her hand continued to pat my arm, but she said nothing as our waiter appeared. My eyes gazed vacantly at the menu as I ignored the litany of specials he recited. Why had I agreed to this? Was it just because my closest friend, without the hint of judgement or pity, decimated my plans for the day by naming them? Hearing them said aloud indeed made them sound like the pathetic actions of a broken person, someone in denial. (Isn't that what you are, hissed the tiny voice deep in my mind.)

"Why, thank you," she cooed at the waiter as I rolled my eyes. "Of _course_ you're hungry," she said, turning back to me as if we had never been interrupted. Her hand slipped down to my right wrist, her thumb and middle finger easily looping around it. I frowned, watching as she slid her looped fingers up my arm. With an irritated sigh, I gently shook off her hand and ignored her implication. She was being ridiculous, I thought as I turned back to the menu. I've _always_ been slim.

"We always liked the Comté," she pointed out. "Let's order some of that to start."

"Fine." What was the point of arguing?

Bette's eyes turned back to the menu and she cleared her throat. "Casey ready for the shareholders meeting that's coming up?"

With a sigh, I narrowed my eyes, blurring the black typeface of the menu. It would be my first Liberty shareholder meeting without Gregory. Was that all my life was now? Full of events I sadly denote as _my first without my husband_? "I-I think so," I murmured, belatedly realizing Casey was at the forefront of her question. It wasn't: _Are you ready for the shareholders meeting that's coming up?_ As if she was trying to make this lunch as normal as possible, as if we were back to having our standing weekly lunches together. Because the last one we had was right after New Year's, before Gregory and I went to Florence. She was trying. She was trying for _me_. "He's nervous," I said in a low voice, forcing myself to actually read the menu, instead of just pretending. "But, he'll be fine though. I know it."

"He was certainly reading up a storm when we left!"

I nodded, but said nothing. He wanted to be prepared to discuss the property development project with Ben and I. He wanted to contribute. But really, whether he realized it or not, he wanted to make Gregory proud. "Yes," I forced myself to say, hearing how coarse my own voice sounded. I cleared my throat, suddenly grateful for the menu. "We liked the grilled Portobello starter the last time we were here, didn't we?" I asked.

If she noticed how quickly I changed the subject, she didn't comment on it. "We did! Let's order it!"

I nodded and turned back to the menu as a deep voice said, "Ladies, enchanté." I felt a shiver run down my spine as I heard a voice I haven't heard in four decades. Bette told me she had seen AJ several weeks ago. But, I hadn't seen him. How would I? I hadn't left my house in months. I suddenly remembered a book I read years ago, sitting snug in first-class with Gregory as we flew somewhere. One of the characters wondered when it was safe for a widow to reenter the world. Never, I thought now as I looked up slowly. It was never safe. (You can't hide from him when he's standing right there, the voice in my head teased.)

I forced a smile to my face as Bette offered a gushing reply and held out her hand. Dutifully, AJ bent forward, his lips brushing against her hand. As he straightened back up, our eyes met over Bette's hand and I squared my shoulders, my hands gripping the edges of the menu. "Olivia," he sighed as he turned to me, smoothing his tie, "it's wonderful to see you again."

Thank you. It's nice to see you too. Those and a half-dozen other replies swam in my mind, but I couldn't speak. My throat muscles were tense, rendering me suddenly incapable of speech. Not that it mattered. As I offered a half-smile in reply, he continued, "I was very sorry to hear of Gregory's death." His lips kept moving, but a dull hum suddenly filled my ears. I felt myself nodding, having a vague memory of doing this at Gregory's funeral. Weren't we _all_ sorry? Even people like AJ, who I know _despised_ Gregory, were sorry. Everyone was sorry.

No one though was sorrier than _me_.

Why was Gregory dead and I alive?

* * *

I knocked on the door, listening to the sounds from the bedroom as I waited. "Who is it?

"Mum." Gregory always teased me for referring to myself that way when none of our children did. _Your children are American, Liv. It's as simple as that._ I folded my arms against my chest, remembering the way he cupped my face and drew me in, his lips soft against my own. I flinched as my fingers brushed against my lips now.

A moment later, the door swung open and Evy stood there, swaddled in her robe. "Hey!" she exclaimed, combing her damp hair with her fingers. She had another date with that boy. The serial killer's son. "How was today's edition of 'Ladies Who Lunch'?" she asked, teasing.

I nodded, ignoring her question so I could get straight to my point. "I want you to invite Benjy to dinner. Here. Tomorrow night."

She frowned and leaned against the doorjamb. " _Okayyyyy_ ," she sighed, long and dramatic. Her fingers danced against the pink terrycloth lapels as she asked, "You know, we've just had a few dates and it's not serious-"

"Evelyn, I wasn't born _yesterday_." Her eyes narrowed as she took in my tone. "No girl sees the same boy this consistently for the last month and says, 'We've just had a few dates and it's not serious'. You're _dating_ Benjy Evans."

Her face melted and my stomach clenched as she smiled bashfully. "Yes," she whispered, her cheeks blushing as my lips parted. This wasn't the way she reacted when she told me about her first boyfriend. Or _any_ boy she remotely had feelings for. This was different. Benjy was different. The serial killer's son was different. "Mom," she began when the silence stretched, "I know you said to be careful because I'm going back to school and it's stupid to start a relationship when I'll just be leaving again in a few months, but-"

As she continued rambling, as if trying to reassure me, her words swirled together. I _did_ say she should be careful. But, _not_ for the reasons she thought. "And…" I heard her trail off as she pressed her hands to her enflamed cheeks.

"And what?" I asked.

"I really, _really_ like him, Mom." An internal sigh deflated me as she continued, "He's not like _any_ of the other boys I've dated. He's sweet. And smart – like, _ridiculously_ brilliant. And kind. And funny. And, oh Mom, we just talk for hours and hours and hours!"

My lips parted as I forced myself to nod. Didn't I use some of those words to describe Gregory to my own mother more than forty years ago? Evy was in love. She might have thought she was in love with other boys she's dated, but she wasn't. Not until now. Love was coloring her words and the expression on her face. "Well, then," I said softly, "don't you think it's time he came over for dinner?"

She clapped her hands excitedly and beamed. "I'll tell him tonight! I don't think we had plans for tomorrow night." She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "He might not be able to stay late though. His LSAT study group meets on Saturday morning."

My eyebrow arched. "He's going to be a lawyer?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, he's sitting for the exam in the fall. He works part-time at Liberty while he's studying." I feel surprised to hear that, but my head insists I knew that. Yes. Ben told Gregory and I after Thanksgiving that Benjy had just graduated and he was going to put him to work doing something tedious, like accounting. Her face fell and she dropped her voice, confiding, "I think he has to work because his step-mother doesn't want him to be a freeloader while he's staying in their guest house."

As I nodded blandly, she continued, "Can it just be us at dinner? Can Casey and the kids do their own thing?"

"Why?" I asked, perplexed. She adored Casey and his children.

Her face turned and she murmured, "Casey is friends with Meg. Meg doesn't like Benjy."

"Darling, Casey is a grownup. I'm sure he's capable of forming his own opinions about Benjy without Meg's influence."

"Please, Mom?" Her brown eyes widened, pleading, as she squeezed my hand again. "I _really_ want you to like him."

I sighed. "Fine."

She beamed again and threw her arms around me. "Thanks, Mom!" I reached up, smoothing her damp hair we embraced. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Do you think Dad would've liked him?"

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders as I lied, "I don't know, darling." It was easier when Gregory was here, dealing with the love lives of our children. He was naturally the suspicious one, interrogating our children's partners like they were witnesses for the prosecution he needed to cross-examine. But, wasn't he _utterly_ amused and silent when I put Shasta through the third degree? It was easier then because we were a _team_. Because we worked together to reassure ourselves that our children were with people who were _worthy_ of them. I felt my hand tremble against Evy's cheek and she reached up, covering my hand. And now, I had to deal with Evy and the serial killer's son on my own.

Why was Gregory dead and I alive?

* * *

 _A/N: The book Olivia recalled reading is "A Widow for One Year" by John Irving._


	10. The Soft Moonlight

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Ten: "The Soft Moonlight"

 _Evy_

"Do you think your mom is mad it's been more than a week since she invited me to dinner?" Benjy's arm was around her shoulders as they walked along the shoreline, the cool water lapping around their feet.

She shook her head and glanced up with a smile. He sounded _truly_ concerned. She leaned into him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "No. She understood when I told her you couldn't come until tonight because you were going back to Monterey for a few days to visit your mom."

He sighed. "Ok, good. I don't want to get on her bad side."

"Actually," she said, letting her voice drop dramatically, "I hate to break it to you, but you kind of already are." She felt him freeze and she looked up, grinning. "Cait once told me that my parents were ridiculously _tough_ on anyone she and Sean dated. And, Dad _hated_ the guys I dated in high school. Mom might've hated them too, but she was nicer to them then he was." His brown eyes crinkled as he glanced over, like he was amused. "What?" she asked with a laugh. "My parents are…intense." She faltered and, in a soft voice, corrected herself as she said, " _Were_ intense."

He hugged her close, pressing a kiss to her head. "I believe it. Remember, I told you your father scared the hell out of me."

She looked up, blinking as a seagull called out and flew overhead. "Everyone thought that," she murmured. "Everyone knew him as this tough-as-nails criminal defense attorney, but he wasn't like that…he was just my dad."

Benjy nodded and leaned in, kissing her gently. "Of course, he was _just_ your dad," he whispered against her lips. Her arms went around his neck as she nodded, his fingers brushing against her jaw. "I bet once I got to know him, I would've seen that too."

With a smile, she pushed herself up onto her toes and kissed him again. His hands held onto her hips as her fingers danced through his hair. "Thanks," she sighed, his forehead touching hers. "I hope you feel that way about my mom too," she said teasingly.

He smiled nervously and glanced up the beach where her house stood imposingly. "Thanks for at least telling me what kind of flowers to bring her," he murmured.

She glanced down at her smart watch and unwound her arms from his neck. "Come on. Let's go back to the house. She and Casey have _got_ to be done with their meeting by now."

As they began the walk across the warm sand back to the house, Benjy reached for her left hand and squeezed it. "So, it's really me against the entire Richards family tonight?" he marveled.

"No. It's just you, me, and Mom tonight. I think Casey is taking the kids to the street festival downtown," she said, concluding with a half-truth that sounded _just_ believable enough. Casey _was_ taking Harrison and Nicola to the festival. Tonight had to be just Mom. Mom _needed_ to like him. Casey's eye rolls, sighs, and annoying silence had made his feelings about Benjy more than clear. Like he was Dad or something and got some kind of say over who she dated. That's why Mom _had_ to like Benjy. If she did, Casey had no excuse to be such a brat.

He nodded. "Maybe we can head down to it after dinner? Meet up with them?"

She shrugged nonchalantly and reached for the latch on the gate. "Maybe." She glanced over her shoulder and forced a smile, rightly anticipating the confusion on his face. "Mom won't go to the street festival – she wouldn't even if Dad was alive – and I don't want her to be here alone."

He nodded, his expression clearing. "So, _no_ to dinner and the street festival. _Yes_ to dinner and a rousing game of Scrabble," he declared and she rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor.

"You dork," she giggled, slipping back beneath his arm as they stood on the patio. She leaned against his chest as he hugged her close as they watched the horizon. She knew tonight would go well. Mom had always been supportive of her relationships with the other boys she dated. Not that Benjy was like them. Benjy was…special. Different. Extraordinary. She closed her eyes, feeling beyond happier in this moment than she had in months.

She knew tonight would go well.

She knew Mom would like Benjy.

She knew she'd _eventually_ get Casey to cool off about Benjy.

She knew it was right to change her enrollment in the summer semester.

She knew she just couldn't go back to New York City just _yet_.

* * *

 _Casey_

"It's weird that Ben wants to delay the shareholders meeting, isn't it?" Olivia's expression suggested she was deep in thought and he leaned forward, touching her hand. "The delay isn't usual," he said softly when she glanced up.

"No. No, it's not." She sighed and he watched as she leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling of her office. "I can't quite figure out what he's playing at," she murmured.

He frowned, still new to the inner-workings of the Liberty Corporation. But, for once he didn't feel so alone in his confusion. "Maybe-," he thought aloud and he felt her eyes flicker to his, "maybe I should speak with Shauna."

"The project manager for the property development?"

"I went to high school with her." He chuckled to himself and explained, "We had the worst first date in the history of first dates, but luckily, we stayed friends after." A half-smile came to Olivia's face as he concluded, "I think she took pity on me. We had nothing in common and, after all, she almost killed me."

Her eyebrow arched. "She did what?"

"She ordered dessert while I went to the restroom. I tasted the strawberry folded into the chocolate mousse the moment I swallowed. I almost went into anaphylactic shock and had to be rushed to the hospital."

Olivia grimaced and shook her head as she pushed herself up from behind her desk. "Speaking of dessert, I think I'm _officially_ late for dinner."

Now it was his turn to grimace as he stood too. That meant it was time for him and the kids to get to the town center for the street festival. "Olivia, are you sure this is a good idea? Benjy is…"

She folded her arms against her chest and frowned. "Of course I'm _not_ sure," she sighed as their eyes met. "But, it's _just_ dinner. Evy is going back to school in two weeks. Then, she won't be seeing Benjy every single day." His only reply was a frown and a deep sigh. "You look very much like Gregory in this moment," she said softly and he felt the flinch go through his body. "He would've been as furious with Evy as you are."

"I'm not-" he began, seeing the way her eyes narrowed as if she dared him to continue denying it. But, she was right. He _was_ furious with his younger sister. She had no idea what she was getting into with Benjy. She refused to even discuss it the few times he tried to talk with her about it. "What would you have told him?"

With a slight smile, she replied, "The same thing I told him when he was furious Caitlin was dating AJ Deschanel's son." He nodded, suddenly remembering. Cait dated Cole for awhile, around the same time that Meg first moved to Sunset Beach. "Young love burns itself out."

He sighed. "Olivia, but if you only knew _half_ of what I knew about Benjy…the _trouble_ he's caused over the years."

She smirked and shook her head. "I don't. That's why Evy invited _me_ to dinner tonight and _not_ you."

He rolled his eyes and followed her out of her office. The house was quiet, though the sheer curtains billowed in the open doorway to the patio. He cleared his throat and looked up the stairwell. "Harrison! Nicola! Let's go!" He heard Olivia call his name and he glanced over, seeing her standing in the patio doorway. He crossed the room and stood behind her, seeing what she was looking at.

Evy and Benjy were sitting at the patio table, playing a card game with Harrison and Nicola. Evy and Benjy's arms were linked, even though they sat side-by-side with their own hands of cards. His younger sister looked up and burst out laughing at something Harrison said. Benjy glanced over, smiling and laughing with her. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Burns itself out," he heard Olivia say softly. She glanced over, a rueful expression on her face.

He sighed again and nodded. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. Either way, his younger sister would be back in New York City at the end of the month.

Away from Benjy.

* * *

 _Olivia_

My eyes flickered between Evy, on my right, and Benjy, on my left. The two of them kept glancing at each other, matching grins on their faces. I leaned back in the chair, fed up with the pretense of eating. Spread out on the dining room table between us was a menagerie of take-out cartons. On a cursory glance, it appeared as if Evy ordered almost the entire menu from _Sitara_ , her favorite Indian restaurant. Gregory's empty chair mocked me from the opposite end of the long table, cradled in the soft moonlight falling in through the windows. He detested Indian food with the passion of a thousand suns.

"Mom, do you want some more of the tandoori shrimp?"

I shook my head and glanced over, watching as Evy frowned and cocked her head. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking the tandoori shrimp was one of my favorite dishes. Her eyes darkened. Now, she's wondering why I'm not eating. "Have you visited India, Mrs. Richards?" Benjy's quiet question interrupted Evy's frown.

I cleared my throat. "No. Have you?"

He nodded and leaned forward, an earnest expression on his face. "My mother, Tío Antonio, and I went to a small village outside Mumbai three summers ago. Mom taught art to the children. Tío Antonio ministered to the people, heard their confessions."

"Wow!" Evy marveled as I asked, "And, what did you do while they were working?"

He grinned bashfully and explained, "Trying – and often failing – to wrangle the _really_ little children into hour upon hour of story time." Evy gasped and turned to me, beaming, as he continued, "They didn't understand English – most of them spoke Marathi – but they still gazed awestruck at me as I read book after book after book."

Well. La-di-da. Small children liked him. That meant _nothing_. Sociopaths were supposed to be charming, after all. "So," Evy laughed, a dazzling expression on her face, "if being a lawyer doesn't work out, is being a kindergarten teacher your back-up plan?"

He chuckled, glancing from Evy to me. "I guess so."

I forced a smile and watched them carefully. Evy was happy, her brown eyes sparkling as she turned from Benjy to me. Certainly, she was the happiest I had seen her since Gregory died. Surely, Benjy wasn't the _sole_ cause of that though. (Of course he is, the small voice in my mind whispered. She looks the way you did when you first started dating Gregory.) I flinched and my right hand anxiously rubbed my thigh. Benjy might have been nothing like Gregory but, blessedly, Evy was _nothing_ like me. When they were 18, all my children had been far more level-headed and responsible than I _ever_ had been at that age. Thank God they inherited _all_ of Gregory's sense. I cleared my throat. "Where do you plan on going to law school, Benjy?"

"Well," he began, "Mom would be happy if I stayed in California." He chuckled to himself and I noticed the way his eyes crinkled, almost infectiously. Almost. "I think she and Ross, my stepfather, got used to me being two hours away when I was at Berkeley. So, she's rooting for Stanford."

Stanford. I thought the words before Evy said them. "That's were Dad went to law school!" Evy said, casting a long glance at me. I looked up slowly and flash her a comforting smile.

"That's not surprising," Benjy said softly as my daughter reached out, taking my hand. "It's a fantastic school. And, insanely hard to get into. They don't take just anyone."

Evy squeezed my hand as I half-nodded, saying nothing. Gregory had never been _just anyone_. His brilliance got him away from his abusive father. His brilliance brought him to California. His brilliance attracted me to him. (Amongst other things, the small voice teased.) "That's where your mother wants you to go," I said softly. "Where do _you_ want to go?"

He smiled. "Harvard," he replied with a bashful smile. "It's where Barack Obama went."

As Evy offered a swooning reply, I simply sat back in my chair. Harvard. Harvard was in Boston. Boston was several hours away from New York City. Far enough away that Evy wouldn't be seeing Benjy on a daily – or even weekly – basis once she went back to school in two weeks.

That was enough.

For now.


	11. Know How Much

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eleven: "Know How Much"

 _Casey_

He walked down through the open office, feeling dozens of eyes on him as they passed several clusters of desks. Well, the eyes were mostly turned to Olivia. The Liberty employees hadn't seen her in this building in months. He reached up, his hand skimming over the tight knot of his tie and down the coat of his suit. He felt out of place. He always did in a suit. A suit and tie, an office building, a shareholders meeting…this was _not_ his natural habitat.

He couldn't wait to be back at the house, wearing board shorts and a t-shirt.

So focused was he on his own thoughts that he didn't realize Olivia stopped walking until he bumped into her. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, seeing they were now in a hallway. His voice echoed in the enclosed space and he flinched. "You ok?" he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Olivia nodded and gestured to the closed door before them. "This was Gregory's office," she murmured. He froze and looked up. _No one has any experience until they start. We'll get to work when Olivia and I get back from Italy._ As he exhaled slowly, he felt her hand on his wrist. "Would you like to go in?"

He shook his head and glanced over. Her eyes crinkled, concerned, as she watched him quietly. "Maybe later," he replied. "After the meeting."

With a slight nod and a perpetually sad smile, she continued walking. "I should check in with my secretary," she said, turning into the office next to Gregory's. "I might as well start picking up my messages myself again."

The outer office was quiet, save for the gentle clicking of the secretary's keyboard. The young woman jumped in surprise and stood quickly. "Mrs. Richards! I didn't think- I mean-"

He hung back, watching as the woman nervously stuttered and ultimately held out a stack of envelopes. "Thank you, Cori." She took them and explained, "Please let Ben know Casey and I are in the conference room."

She nodded. "Of course." She glanced quickly at him, but said nothing, before she cleared her throat and said softly, "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Richards."

Olivia forced a smile and whispered her thanks as she turned away. "It's just this way, Casey," he heard her say as she thumbed through the envelopes. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at the young woman. She nodded and returned his smile. It wasn't Olivia's fault though. As kind and sensitive as people tried to be, it was still hard to hear the unspoken condolences and expressions of sympathy.

He caught up to Olivia in the hallway as she ripped into an envelope and unfolded a letter. A moment later, she inhaled sharply. "Something wrong?" he asked. When she looked up, her expression was stone and he took a step back. "Olivia?"

"Later," she said simply, her voice strangely clipped as she folded the letter back up. They walked into the empty conference room, large leather chairs surrounding the long table. She dropped the stack of envelopes onto the table with a gentle thump and pulled out the chair to the right of the head. He was too nervous to sit though. Instead, he rested his hands on the top of the chair next to hers and sighed deeply. "You're more prepared than I am, Casey," she said softly as she leaned back. With a glance up at him, she concluded, "You'll do fine."

As their eyes met, a booming voice echoed in the conference room. "Olivia, Casey, I hope you haven't been waiting long."

He turned to Ben as Olivia replied, "Not at all. Just a moment."

" _I hope I'm not late?"_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Olivia look up quickly as AJ Deschanel's voice rang out. "Ben?" she asked sharply.

Ben sighed, as if he had correctly guessed Olivia's reaction and was already exhausted from rehearsing his response. "Olivia-" he began at the same moment AJ said, "I was under the impression everyone was aware of my proposal."

He felt himself frowning as Ben looked up, seemingly for help. But, he said nothing and only watched as the other man glanced from AJ and back to Olivia. "I apologize," he began, though his tone suggested anything but apology, "if this feels like a surprise." He couldn't help it. Meg's husband or not, this was a scumbag move. He scoffed beneath his breath and took a seat in the chair next to his stepmother. A moment later, Ben and AJ took the seats directly opposite them.

"Olivia, how are you doing?" Ben asked and he couldn't help but marvel over the absence of concern in his question.

Olivia squared her shoulders and looked from AJ to Ben. "Fine. You?" she countered. As Ben moved to reply, she continued, "Or, we could dispense with the niceties and get straight to the point."

He smirked to himself as Ben and AJ exchanged a not-so-subtle look. "Very well, Olivia," Ben sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Not long after Gregory's death, I began fielding questions from our business partners."

"Which ones?" he heard himself ask and he was impressed with how even his tone sounded. Nearly confident. It certainly sounded more confident than he felt.

Ben's eyes flickered to him. "The bank. Our construction company. The architect. The engineering firm. The town council." He turned back to Olivia and continued, "The blatant unease started about two months ago."

"Unease over what?"

"Us," he stated bluntly. "They all trusted Gregory implicitly. Without him, there is a concern with the financing package we've secured through the bank. Without him, there is a concern the MUMI property development will fall apart."

There was a long moment of silence and he glanced over, watching as Olivia said, "Not us, you mean. _Me_. They're uneasy about me. I'm the majority shareholder now."

"Yes." The hard, but simple, truth, reverberated in the conference room.

Olivia's gaze turned to AJ. "That's why you're here."

He watched as AJ sent his stepmother a charming smile. "As a friend, Olivia. Only as a friend." When she said nothing, he continued, "Since returning to Sunset Beach, naturally the property development project has been all the town council can talk about. They're still supportive of the project, but I know how much worry churns beneath that support."

"Let me guess: you can stop them from worrying?" he asked, looking squarely at AJ. From the edge of his vision, he felt Olivia's gaze turn to him as AJ replied, "Simply, young man, yes. Yes, I can."

Ben leaned over, interjecting, "AJ has offered to transfer liquid assets to the Liberty Corporation. The assets will be converted into cash and applied to the MUMI project. This influx of cash will reassure _everyone_ of the soundness of both Liberty _and_ the project."

"In exchange for what?" Olivia asked quietly. A long beat of silence went by. "Surely, AJ expects _something_ in return."

Ben cleared his throat and explained, "A minority shareholder stake in Liberty."

He felt himself pale as AJ added, "Along with voting rights." This was wrong. Gregory wouldn't want this. As he shifted in the chair, he heard Olivia sigh, "That's a generous offer, AJ. But, I don't think we'll need it."

"Olivia, for God's sake-" Ben began as AJ said, "Olivia, dear, I don't think-"

She leaned back in the chair, the leather cushion hissing. "What I do think," she began, her voice low and surprisingly calm, "is that everyone will be reassured when we announce that Gregory's shares will be transferred to Casey." A roar flushed in his ears as his heart exploded. In shock, he turned to his stepmother as Ben and AJ gaped at them. "As well as assuming Gregory's oversight role on the MUMI project."

"Olivia, this is insane!" Ben groaned as he rubbed his face. "Casey can't even _begin_ to understand the magnitude of this project! It's valued at more than 95 million dollars!"

"I think you'll find," she said softly, "that Gregory did an exceptional job of bringing Casey up-to-speed on where things stood with the project. Casey is well-versed on all the details. I think our business partners and stakeholders will be reassured by the involvement of Gregory's son in the project."

"What?" Ben exclaimed. "Gregory _never_ mentioned bringing Casey in!" He glanced over at him and scoffed, "Judging by the look on Casey's face, it appears Gregory never discussed it with _him_ either!"

"Nonsense," she sniffed, turning to Casey with a long gaze. Her calm expression didn't waver, but he saw what was unspoken in her eyes. "Casey's just surprised because we hadn't planned on announcing this today." He found himself nodding as she turned back to Ben and continued, "But, you didn't give us any other option."

"Be that as it may," AJ said, "my offer still stands."

"Shall we bring it to a vote then?" Olivia asked, her words clipped. "All those in favor of AJ's offer?" Ben raised his hand. "All opposed?" He raised his right hand a full second before Olivia did. "Well, then. That's settled. Was there any other business, Ben?"

Ben's hard gaze sizzled across the table as he shook his head. "That's all," he muttered as AJ stood.

"Olivia, should you change your mind, my offer will stand. _Indefinitely_."

He and Ben stood at the same time as he heard himself say, "I don't think we will change our minds. But, if we do, _I'll_ be in touch."

Olivia stood, reaching for the bundle of envelopes her secretary gave her. "Ben, we'll send over a draft of the press release announcing the transfer of Gregory's shares and Casey's appointment to the project by end of day." Ben nodded before he turned away, annoyed. He pulled back Olivia's chair and followed her out of the conference room. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Ben and AJ huddled by the windows in deep discussion.

His stepmother was more than halfway down the hall and he walked quickly to catch up to her at the elevators. "Olivia, I-"

"You handled that very well," she murmured, brushing her hair back behind her ear. The confidence from just a few moments ago evaporated as she flashed a weak smile. "I'm sorry I blindsided you."

"Did you mean it though?"

She glanced up, surprised. "Of course. It was the only way I could justify turning down AJ's offer." The doors opened and he was relieved to see the elevator was empty. When they stepped in and the doors closed, he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. A split second later, Olivia continued, "But, Gregory hated AJ. He _never_ would have accepted his offer."

He exhaled deeply and loosened his tie. "Why'd he hate him?"

With a tired sigh that segued to a groan, she explained. "Because…because I used to date him."

"Seriously?" he scoffed, bewilderment and laughter clouding his question. " _That's_ why?

She shrugged and folded her arms against her chest. "There might have been other reasons, but that was the main one." Her face stilled as she turned to him and continued, "They had a rather vicious fight shortly before Gregory and I became engaged. Gregory involved the police and threatened to press charges. Not long after, AJ left Sunset Beach for good." He nodded dumbly as he heard her say, "It probably seems silly, holding onto a grudge like that for more than forty-"

"I mean, I don't like hearing about Diana's old boyfriends," he murmured as he rubbed his face. "But, seriously…Olivia, I don't think I can do this."

"You can," she said softly. "You can and you _will_. I'll help you. I won't let you fail."

He slumped against the wall of the elevator. 95. _Million_. Dollars. Despite Olivia's stubborn confidence in him, he felt _completely_ over his head. "Well," he sighed, with more joviality than he felt, "at least Diana will be happy to hear about the new job."

* * *

 _Evy_

She leaned against the arm chair, forcing a polite smile. "Are you sure you don't want a cup of coffee?" she asked.

Stanley Berenson, Dad's estate lawyer, looked up briefly from his iPhone. "No, no," he murmured as he turned his attention back to the phone's screen. She frowned and folded her arms against her chest. Without looking up again, he continued, "I don't need to be minded like a small child, Evelyn. I'm perfectly capable of waiting for your mother by myself."

With a slow nod, she stood slowly. "If you're sure," she trailed off, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Stanley?" When he looked up, waiting expectantly, she cleared her throat and asked, "Is there something wrong? With Dad's will?"

His expression didn't move. Not even an inch. She sighed internally. God, _lawyers_. "I'm sure you're aware, Evelyn, that I'm not able to answer your question."

"Why not though? I'm one of Dad's heirs."

"Are you sure?" he asked simply. She gaped at him for a long moment until his stone-cold expression shifted to one of mild amusement. "Regardless of the fact that you're a named heir in your father's will, there is a matter I need to discuss with your mother and _only_ your mother."

"Well, I'm not sure what time she and Casey will be back from the Liberty building."

With a pleasant smile, he pointed out, "Which is why I'm perfectly capable of waiting for your mother by myself."

As she opened her mouth to reply, the doorbell rang. "If you'll excuse me then," she sighed, already annoyed with the older man as she turned for the front door. She hoped Benjy wouldn't end up being this kind of lawyer: cagey and secretive. She pulled open the front door, her sigh deepening when she saw who was waiting on the other side. "Morris. Hi. Mom's not here."

The older man nodded quickly, his hulking presence immediately filling the open doorway. "Would you mind if I wait for her? There's something I need to discuss with her."

She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him see into the living room where Stanley waited. "Get in line," she muttered as he walked in. As she closed the door, she heard him and Stanley exchanging introductions. "Coffee, Morris?" she asked, watching as he anxiously twisted his hands. "Maybe decaf?"

"No, no." He frowned and glanced down at his watch. "Do you know what time Olivia will be back?

She cocked her head as an ice-cold shiver washed over her. His tone was strained. "No, not exactly. What's wrong?"

He shook his head and muttered, "Nothing," at the same moment as Stanley said, "I think I will take that coffee now, Evelyn."

Typical. "Sure thing. I'll get right on that." She rolled her eyes again and turned for the kitchen at the same moment Mom and Casey walked through it. "Oh, thank God. Finally. Mom, Stanley and-"

Then, she saw Mom's face. It was the angriest she'd seen her since Dad died. And, she had a feeling she knew why.

* * *

 _Olivia_

My fingers drummed an irritated rhythm on my thigh as Casey turned the car onto Ocean Avenue. Thank God he had taken the car keys when we left the house this morning without even a second thought. It's been months since I've driven a car. Since New Year's. But, after opening that letter and that fiasco of a shareholder's meeting, there was no way I could've driven home. The car might've ended up off the road and in a sand dune.

"Olivia?" The ride had progressed in mostly silence, both of us wrapped in our own thoughts. "Both of us going to Florida at the end of the week for Ally's graduation won't be an issue for the project, will it?" I closed my eyes. After everything that happened this morning, I had momentarily forgotten Casey, Evy, the children, and I were leaving in two days. "No. No, of course not," I murmured.

I opened my eyes as he braked slightly and turned the car into the drive way. "Were you expecting anyone?" he asked at the same moment I noticed the two cars in the driveway.

My left hand clenched around the now crumpled letter as he slowly drove into the garage and parked the car. "Morris?" I mused aloud. "But, I don't know about the other car." She didn't know it, but Evy was grateful for the visitors. There was no way I was wringing her neck in front of them. I climbed out of the car, letting the door slam. My heel clicked a determined staccato on the concrete as I followed Casey into the house through the garage.

I was going to kill her.

I tossed the other envelopes onto the counter and kept the crumbled one still balled in my left fist. As I walked into the living room, I noticed Morris pacing in front of the patio door and Stanley Berenson sitting on the sofa. Evy was halfway between them and me, as if she had been about to leave the room. "Oh, thank God," she exclaimed when she saw me. "Finally. Mom, Stanley and-"

I shook my head slightly and she shrunk back, away from me, as her eyes widened. Perhaps she could see it on my face. That I knew. That she had lied for the last two weeks, probably even longer than that. I saw the way my hand trembled as I held the crumbled letter out to her. The one from Columbia University explaining that my payment for her summer tuition, residence hall fee, and meal plan in the dining hall were being refunded since she was, in fact, no longer enrolled in the upcoming summer semester. She swallowed hard, her face suddenly pale as she took the crumpled envelope. "Mom, I- I can-"

"We'll speak about this later," I said, hearing how tight my own voice sounded. She shook her head and I thought I saw the glimmer of tears in her brown eyes. She reached out, taking the letter from me before I abruptly turned away from her. The two men stood in the living room, watching me. "Morris? Stanley? What is it?"

What else could possibly go _more_ wrong with this day?

The two men looked at each other, but said nothing. For God's sake. "One of you, speak," I hissed. A headache suddenly pounded behind my eyes as my patience brimmed over its limit. "I don't care what it is, just say it."

Stanley cleared his throat and said simply, "Olivia, I received a notice this morning that Gregory's will is being contested."

I felt the breath die in my throat as a wave of nausea went through me. From far away, I heard Evy gasp and, a moment later, I felt Casey behind me. Across the room, Morris' eyes burned into me as I rubbed my forehead and croaked, "By who?"

"Lisa Roberts, one of Gregory's former secretaries." I shook my head. The name meant nothing. Stanley eyed me closely, as if he were waiting for permission to continue. I jerked my hand and he cleared his throat before he continued, "She claims she and Gregory had an affair in 1994 and that he promised her a place in his will."

I tried to inhale, but couldn't. Gregory and his goddamn secretaries. Oh, wasn't _this_ just the cherry on top of today? A rueful chuckle rose in my throat as the room spun. The absurdity of everything crested in my laughter as I raised my hands to my face. My stomach quivered as my laughter continued to spiral and grow in the living room. The exhaustion and stress of this morning – indeed, the last several months – and now Stanley's news made _no_ more sense than did my laughter. But, in the face of insanity, _this_ was the only reaction which made sense.

That's when I realized.

It was the first time I've laughed since Gregory died.

"Olivia? Olivia?" Stanley's voice cut through the laughter as my hands fell away from my face. "Olivia, I'm sorry, but I need to ask if it's true."

"True?" I chuckled, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. "That Gregory slept with his secretaries?" I sighed, cupping my cheeks for a long moment before my hands fell away. "It is." Memories from decades ago flashed before my eyes. The rock bottom points in our marriage. My drinking. Our fights. Our affairs. The way we broke each other's hearts time and time again. The way we betrayed our marriage vows. The way we nearly destroyed each other. "But," I continued in a murmur, "there is no way – at _all_ – that Gregory promised her that. Or promised her _anything_."

"Are you certain?" Stanley asked, somewhat doubtfully.

Choosing to continue ignoring that Casey and Evy were standing a breath away, I continued with the truth. "Gregory's mistresses were distractions. They never lasted long. The moment they became too serious, he would end it. He _never_ would've promised any of them anything, let alone writing one of them into his will." With a frown, I rubbed my forehead and continued in a sigh, "Besides, Gregory changed his will shortly after he learned Casey was his son. Even if – _if_ – he did tell this woman he was including her in his will, that will is long _since_ revoked."

With a tight smile, Stanley buttoned his suit coat and reached for his briefcase. "You sound like a lawyer's wife."

"And, understand this, Stanley," I said pointedly, "we are _not_ settling. Tell her lawyer we're not listening to a _single_ deal they want to initiate. Period. She can fight this through the courts until she exhausts all her appeals or her money runs out, whichever comes first. But, she is not getting a single _penny_ of Gregory's money."

In a day filled with circumstances beyond control, having a modicum of control again took the edge off.

"Noted," Stanley said. "I'll be in touch."

With a sigh, I watched as he saw himself out of the house. As the door closed behind him, I heard Evy tentatively begin, "Mom-"

"I'm not ready to talk with you just yet," I immediately replied as I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers into my forehead.

"But, Mom-"

"Evelyn Frances, _not_ now." As I opened my eyes, I heard her sigh. The tattered envelope crinkled in her hand, shockingly loud in the sudden silence. I heard her apologize meekly before her feet sounded on the stairs.

A moment later, Casey asked, "Sh- should I go check on her?"

With a vague nod, I collapsed onto the sofa and gazed up at the ceiling. I listened to him follow Evy up the stairs and sighed again, utterly exhausted. "Are you still there, Morris?" I asked softly. It was ridiculous to ask, but it was all I could manage.

"I can come back tomorrow," his deep voice assured me from behind. "After that other news, it can wait."

"Can it?"

He cleared his throat and came around to my right side. With a swear and an exhalation, he crouched low and explained, "I probably _should_ come back tomorrow."

Painstakingly, I turned to look at him. His dark eyes watched me carefully, but I could see the unease in them. What was more bad news after everything? "You didn't find him, did you? Gianni Cappello?"

He shook his head and I couldn't help the disappointed groan that rose in my throat. "But, Olivia, there's more to it. It's not just that I can't find him. It's that he doesn't _exist_."

"What do you mean? Of course, he exists. He spoke to the Italian police, to the newspaper reporter."

"And, then he disappeared," he said quickly. "Too quickly. His identification papers, the contact information he left with the Italian police…it was all fake."

"Fake?" Slowly, I sat up as my skull began to throb.

He nodded. "I've traced every living Gianni Cappello in Italy. All 237 of them. None of them were the Gianni Cappello who claimed he witnessed your car accident." He stopped so suddenly, so abruptly, I couldn't help but lean forward expectantly. "And, it doesn't make sense. Why would the man who witnessed the car accident – who did a _heroic_ thing and rescued you – lie about who he is? Why would he lie, but go out of his way to give face-to-face interviews with several Italian reporters?"

"What are you saying?" I whispered, my skin crawling.

"I've spent the last two-and-a-half days running through every possible explanation for why he would lie. And… It doesn't make sense," he continued in a whisper, "unless you ask yourself if we've been told the truth about the car accident. About Greg's death."


	12. Can I Just

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Twelve: "Can I Just"

 _Caitlin_

She held the iPhone to her ear as she leaned back into the pillows. "So, the graduation was nice?" she asked.

"Yes." Mom's voice sounded distracted. Distant. Exhausted.

"Allie walked across the stage without tripping over herself?"

Mom's light chuckle danced across the line. "More like danced across the stage. But, yes, she didn't trip."

"I'm sorry we missed it." She stifled a yawn and let her swollen eyes close. She had never been more excited for anything than to deliver her fourth child in six days. It was her first c-section, but she was ready. Her fourth, and last pregnancy – along with Daddy's death –, had taken too much out of her. "Kids these days though," she sighed. "They're the social media generation. They'll do anything for likes."

"Allie's a sweet girl," Mom murmured. "Headstrong, but sweet."

"Headstrong, but sweet," she mused, rubbing her belly. "Sounds like someone with Daddy's genes." Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed up at the cathedral ceiling. Headstrong, but sweet also described Evy. Though, in her opinion, she was more headstrong than sweet as of late. "We sent a gift, but make sure to tell her that Charlie, the kids, and I send our congratulations."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

Mom's flat response gave her pause and she frowned. It was Casey who told her what Evy had done. Withdrawing from school and lying to all of them. Letting everyone believe she was headed back to Columbia next week. He said that Mom was furious. She didn't blame her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to imagine Greg, Mikey, or Blake carrying off such a gross lie. Imagine her reaction. She couldn't quite get herself there.

With a sigh, she rubbed the furrowed space between her eyebrows. Her younger sister's antics were the last thing their mother needed. It was completely childish and ridiculous of Evy to do. Not to mention immature and irresponsible. "Mom? Is everything ok?"

"Fine," she sighed and she pictured Mom rubbing her forehead. She always did that when she was frustrated and boxed in.

"Mom, listen…why don't you just forget about coming up to Sonoma."

She heard the sharp inhale. "Absolutely not."

With a gasp of energy, she pushed herself up and ignored the way her baby girl angrily kicked back. "Mom, it'll be ok. We won't tell the baby that you didn't meet her on the day she was born. She'll never know."

" _I'll_ know, Caitlin. I'll know." Suddenly, Mom sounded like herself again. Her voice was stronger and crisper, the melodic Queen's English she had known her entire life. "Absolutely not. Evy and I will be there on Wednesday."

"Are you sure Mom? It'll be ok if-"

"I'll be there," Mom interjected. "Even if my newest granddaughter is _still_ nameless."

With a giggle, she looked out the window at the rolling vineyard that made up her backyard. "She'll have a name. I have a few ideas. I'll know when I see her which one is the _right_ one. Besides," she continued, "you and Daddy had decided on Evy's name, but didn't tell anyone – not even Sean and I – until she was born!" Mom was quiet, so quiet, that she glanced at the phone's screen to see if the call dropped. "Mom? Mom? Are you there?"

A moment later, she heard Mom sigh. "It was my idea to call her Evelyn."

"What did Daddy say?" she asked softly.

"Oh, he- he was speechless," Mom replied, her voice a hushed whisper. "It wasn't a name we'd ever discussed using before. But..."

"But, what?"

"But, it was the right name."

* * *

 _Diana_

She stretched her arms high overhead and sighed as the roll of packing tape squealed. "I'm sick to death of that sound," she groaned as Casey sealed the box and scribbled Ally's name on it with a black marker. "Sick to death of packing. Why do we have so much crap anyway?"

He chuckled and pushed the box into the corner before he stood. "Because we have three kids. They're the ones with all the crap." She nodded and fell into his embrace, closing her eyes. It felt beyond good to know their family would all be under one roof again. To know she would be seeing her husband and two youngest children every day. "Remember our first apartment? We _barely_ had furniture in it."

She snuggled against him, remembering. "Just the bed and the big screen tv," she said softly, feeling his arms around her.

"Meals standing up in the kitchen."

" _Those were the days_ ," she sang beneath her breath. His chuckle segued into a long sigh and she looked up, watching him quietly. He looked as stressed as he had sounded on the phone the last few days. Since Olivia came out of left field and transferred Gregory's shares and the job with the property development project to him. She shook her head, still annoyed with the whole turn of events. Still worried about her husband.

He looked down at her and sighed. "We have so much crap we needed three storage units for it all."

She smiled and reached up, cupping his face. "Only temporarily. The house will be ready in six weeks."

He rolled his eyes and forced a deep breath. "Until the next delay with the builder. We were supposed to stay with Olivia and Gregory eight months. We're pushing a year."

She shook her head, her fingers dancing along his hairline. "It'll be a lot for you. Working with Olivia, still living with Olivia."

Casey looked at her for a long moment and smirked. "You're still pissed at her," he marveled and she could hear the teasing tone. "Don't be."

"I'm allowed to be worried about you," she insisted, her arms going around his neck. "I'm allowed to be annoyed that she made a split-second decision. A split-second decision that impacts you and she didn't even deign to discuss it with you first!"

"Deign," he marveled. "Fancy."

"Case!"

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Stop," he whispered, his lips brushing her skin. She turned her eyes up to him as he continued, "It's ok. _I'm_ ok."

"You're stressed," she retorted in a hushed breath.

"Stressed…because I want to do a good job." Silently, she watched as his eyes met hers and he continued, "Liberty is the only thing I've ever gotten from _both_ my parents. I don't- I mean, I want them to be proud of the work I do now that I'm responsible for Mom and Gregory's shares."

With a lump in her throat, she nodded and hugged him tightly. This man. She was so blessed to have this sensitive and caring man as her husband and the father of her children. He sighed deeply, one weighed down with trouble, as he gripped her back. And yet… "But, there is something else bothering you."

"Not bothering," she heard him reply. "But…well, there's been this nagging thought I haven't been able to shake in months." She looked up sharply. Months? "And, since Gregory died, it's been on my mind more and more."

"Casey, what is it?" she murmured.

His blue eyes sharpened as he slowly and carefully asked, "How would you feel if we changed our last name to Richards?"

* * *

 _Bette_

"So, you've just been bouncing around Europe for the last four decades?"

AJ nodded, gently swirling his Sauvignon Blanc. "You probably think that sounds pathetic," he chuckled and she resisted the urge to agree with him. With a lazy smile, he took a long inhale before sipping the wine. "But, after leaving Sunset Beach, no other place felt like home."

"No place?" she scoffed as the warm ocean breeze stirred her hair. She pushed her sunglasses down her nose and eyed him over the frames. "Not Saint Tropez? Not Montenegro? Not Monaco?"

With another deeper chuckle, he set his wine glass down and leaned in closer. "You'd think they would," he said softly and she found herself leaning in to hear him better. "But, there's something special about this town, this sand."

"It's magical…or so the famous legend goes."

Smiling gently, he shrugged and glanced up. His gaze was just over her right shoulder, no doubt looking at the Pacific Ocean glittering below them, seagulls dancing in the air. "I suppose I would feel something special about any town my father founded." Slowly, he looked back at her, a sudden sadness weathering his expression. "Though this is the only town he did."

She reached out slowly and patted his hand. "The centennial ball will be a wonderful celebration to honor him."

He cleared his throat and sat back as a server appeared with their lunches. "Yes, very much so," he replied when they were alone again. As she reached for her flatware, she heard him tentatively ask, "Has Olivia expressed interest in attending?"

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she cut into her Chilean sea bass. "She hasn't expressed interest in much of anything the last few months. I'm sure you can understand that."

As she looked up, she saw a thoughtful glint in his eyes as he adjusted his silk pocket square. "Yes, I suppose so. I rather thought she seemed to be in good spirits at the Liberty shareholders meeting the other day." She chuckled beneath her breath, but said nothing. _In good spirits_ wasn't how she'd describe Olivia at any point this week or the last several months. "Perhaps you and Olivia would do me the honor of attending as my guests? I have a table to fill."

"As your guests?" she repeated.

"Of course! I'd be the most envied man at the ball with you two on each arm."

She smiled and gently set her fork aside. "I don't know that Olivia will want to attend. She's had me decline all the social engagements she previously accepted when Gregory-" Her voice trailed off suddenly as her unspoken words danced around her mind. When Gregory was still alive. "She hasn't left the house much these last few months," she finally said.

"Well. Perhaps a night on the town would do her some good."

With a tight nod, she turned back to her lunch. "I'll mention it to her when she gets back from Florida with Evy."

* * *

 _Evy_

The Admirals Club at the airport reminded her of the dining room at the country club. For being a large room with a lot of people in it, it was surprisingly quiet. The hushed conversations were sprinkled with the clinking of the silverware, occasional laughter, and the not-so-distant sounds of a plane's jet engines. With a sigh, she leaned her elbows on the small table and rested her chin in her hands.

Mom sat across from her, saying nothing as she gazed at a spot on the ground. She sighed, peeking up at her as sorrow wallowed in her chest. Mom hadn't spoken to her much in days. Not since she got the letter from Columbia. Now, with more than an hour until their flight back to California, the silence hurt more than ever. It was the first time since the letter arrived that she had been alone with her. Casey and the kids were staying in Islamorada for a few days with Diana and Allie before all five of them came back to Sunset Beach. Without anyone else around, it was more obvious than ever: Mom had _never_ been this angry with her before. Ever. And, she _hated_ how it felt to be on the receiving end of her anger. With a small sigh, she began softly, "I thought you would be mad if I told you." Slowly, Mom looked up. Her expression was blank, but she said nothing. Seizing the moment, she continued, "You said Dad would be mad at you if I became a dropout."

"It's funny," Mom murmured as she reached for her cup of tea. "Despite the pain killers I was on at the time, I _distinctly_ remember you promising me you were _not_ a dropout."

"And, I'm not!" she insisted. Mom's violet eyes turned up over the tea cup, watching closely. "I'm not going back to Columbia for the summer semester like I originally planned, but I will be there for the fall semester in September."

"Until you decide to withdraw at the last minute," Mom muttered into her tea. " _Again_."

She frowned. "Why are you acting this way?"

Her tea cup hit the saucer with a sharp _clink_. "Because I am your mother. Because you lied to me. Because you dropped out of school. And, for what? Some _boy_?"

"Benjy is not _just_ some _boy_!" she hissed, her hands clenched so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. "God, and this doesn't even have _anything_ to do with him!"

Mom's eyes rolled slightly as she sat back in her chair. "Oh. Really?"

"Benjy didn't know anything about it. In fact," she admitted in a low voice, her eyes dropping to her lap, "you'll be happy to know he's as upset with me as you are." She glanced back up in time to see the surprise wash across Mom's face. "Can I just- can I just be honest?"

"I would _love_ honesty from you," she replied softly.

"I _have_ thought about how things will change with Benjy when I go back to Columbia. Also, he'll be going to law school in a few months. I mean, we have plans for ourselves and we're not changing them for each other. We'll figure it out how to make it work. And, yes…he might have played a small part in my decision." Mom's eyes flickered, but she said nothing. Taking that as a sign to continue, she said, "But, it wasn't _all_ because of him. And- and, I get that you're mad at me for lying." Hanging her head, she felt the tears burn her eyes as she whispered, "I know Dad would be too."

"Evy-"

"But, did you ever stop to think maybe I'm not ready to go back to school?" Her throat tightened as she whispered, "That I'm afraid of leaving you? That if I'm not there, you'll be all alone?"

With a deep sigh, Mom sat up and reached across the table. She choked back a sob and looked up as Mom's fingers threaded through her own. "When my mother died, I didn't want to leave London. I couldn't bear to leave my father there all alone," she said softly, her eyes brimming with heartbreak. "I actually- I actually asked Daddy to transfer to the firm's London office. I wanted us to move there, so I – _we_ – could be close to him."

She nodded slowly and wiped her free hand across her eyes. "What did he say?" she asked in a croaking whisper, though she had an idea.

Mom's face fell as she gasped, "He said yes." She inhaled sharply and squeezed her hand as she continued in a breaking sigh, "Daddy said yes. Without a second thought."

She bit the corner of her lip, watching as Mom wiped the tears from her eyes. "So, why didn't you and Dad move to London?"

Mom's hand trembled as she sniffed and blinked rapidly. "Your grandfather. When I told him what I wanted to do, h-he said it was ridiculous. Ridiculous to upturn Caity and Sean's lives. Ridiculous to make Daddy give up his career in California." Her eyes glazed over, like she was replaying the conversation with her father in her mind. After a moment, a sad smile came to her lips and she chuckled ruefully. "He said he wasn't a child who needed to be looked after. He said that even if he was, he would never ask that of your father and I."

She began to shake her head. "Mom-"

"Evelyn." Her name quivered in the silence as she reluctantly met Mom's gaze. "I'm not a child who needs to be looked after." Hot tears brimmed in her own eyes as she heard Mom continue, "And, even if I was, I would _never_ ask that of you."

* * *

 _A/N: Diana sings a bit of "Those Were the Days" (written by Lee Adams and Charles Strouse)._


	13. Stars Up Above

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Thirteen: "Stars Up Above"

 _Evy_

She swiped the screen of her phone, unlocking the device. Her chat history with Benjy displayed and her brow furrowed as she read the last message she sent him. _I'm off to Sonoma with Mom to meet Cait's new baby. I'll text you when I'm home._

His response?

 _I'll see you when you're back._

That was days ago and nothing since then. Nothing.

With a sigh, she tossed her phone away again and flopped back against the sofa cushions. It had been an awkward week. She had barely been home between going to Islamorada for Allie's graduation and then going straight up to Sebastapol for the birth of her newest niece. Through it all, Benjy had barely spoken to her. He was disappointed she withdrew from the summer semester. He was upset that he knew her family would blame him for the decision. But, most of all, he was upset she had lied to him. Like everyone else, he thought she was going back to school next week.

She sighed. He wasn't wrong about her family blaming him. Every single one of them who had the opinion she was on the fast-track to ruining her life blamed him. Mom. Casey. Cait. Sean. At least Mom wasn't _as_ angry with her anymore and Caitlin was so distracted by her new baby that they didn't even speak about school when they were together.

Now, she and Mom were home. They had gotten back late the previous evening. But, she hadn't texted Benjy. Not yet. She was frightened to find out that he was still upset with her…and she was annoyed that she was frightened. "Hey!" She glanced up as Allie came in from the patio. Forcing a smile to her face, she sat up as she asked, "You want to go down to the beach?"

She shook her head, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "No, I don't think so. I'm so exhausted, you know?" Allie frowned and she immediately felt bad. She had spent zero time with Allie since she and Diana finally arrived in Sunset Beach. "But, like, let's do something tonight. Ok?" They weren't like normal aunts and nieces. They were more like friends. They always would be. They were too close in age for anything else. Allie immediately beamed as she continued, "Want to go to the movies? I think _Snatched_ just came out and it looks funny."

"Yeah, it does," Allie said at the same time the doorbell rang. "I'll get it."

She nodded vaguely and turned back to her phone, reluctantly unlocking it. She should text Benjy. Or FaceTime him. Or just call him. Something. The contrary feelings of fear and annoyance coursed through her as she stared down at the phone. "Evy?"

Her head flew up at the sound of Benjy's voice and she stood quickly. "H-hi," she stuttered, her eyes moving over his tentative facial expression. "How did you- I mean, did someone tell-"

"My dad heard from Meg, who heard from Casey, that your mother was back in town. I figured that meant you were too."

She felt her cheeks flame as she blushed, embarrassed. She _knew_ she should've gotten over her fear and just texted him. She was right to be annoyed at herself. "Sorry," she said meekly as he came around to her. "We got home so late and-"

"It's ok," he said simply. But, his tone and body language suggested it was very _not_ ok.

She sighed and, with a slight nod, looked past him to where Allie stood by the pillar and stared. "Could you give us a minute, Allie?" As she rolled her eyes, she said, "Maybe you can check the times for the movie tonight?"

"Whatever," she muttered as she turned and went up the stairs, her feet loud.

She turned back to Benjy and meekly explained, "She's mad at me too. I don't think I've given her the attention she wants."

"Yeah, well, maybe she should learn to live with disappointment," he said and she flinched at the coldness in his voice. "Like the rest of us do."

She nodded quickly and looked down at her feet. Shamed by Mom and now Benjy. "Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?"

He sighed deeply. "I know you are." She looked up as he sighed again, nervously rubbing his mouth. "You should've just told me you withdrew from your classes." A long and uncomfortable silence unfolded between them. With a shuddering sigh, she took a step closer to him. "Please don't lie to me again," he finally said. "I've been lied to too many times before."

"I promise," she sighed as she threw her arms around him. A moment later, she felt his arms around her and she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his neck. "I promise, I promise, I promise."

"Your family still think it's my fault?" he asked.

" _Mom_ doesn't," she said pointedly as she leaned up. "She knows it was me." With a sigh, he nodded and glanced down. "Hey," she whispered, cupping his face. She returned his frown with a smile before she leaned in and kissed him. "Forget about them," she whispered against his lips.

"Evy-"

"Please, forget them." She hugged him close as she rested her forehead against his chin. "My brothers and sister won't change. But Mom's on our side and that's all that matters."

"Fine."

Another deep and long sigh rose out of his throat and she forced a bright smile to her face. "Want to see a picture of my new niece?" He finally smiled and nodded. Quickly, she reached for her phone and unlocked it. "She's the _most_ beautiful little baby." She held out the phone and showed him a picture as she explained, "Her name is Rory. Rory Charlotte Salinger."

"Rory…for Gregory?" he asked softly.

Her throat tightened as she nodded, tears burning her eyes. "Dad would've loved her."

* * *

 _Olivia_

I stood on the patio, my arms folded tight as I looked down at the pool. Casey's three children splashed through the water, racing each other from one end to the other. It wasn't all that long ago that it was Evy in the pool, leaping from the ledge into Gregory's outstretched arms. Before her, it was Caity and Sean, taking turns diving to the bottom for plastic clam shells and plastic pearls. When my mother first saw the house, she thought it was terribly indulgent that we had a pool _and_ a Jacuzzi _and_ were steps from the ocean. But, it was necessary. Gregory hated the beach because of the mess the sand would leave behind. I hated the pool because of the chlorine and chemicals. And, compromise wasn't a word in Gregory's vocabulary. We would have it all.

 _Settling is for losers, Liv._

I flinched, his voice echoing in my mind as clearly as if he stood beside me. The way a zing of electricity shot through me when I first heard him say that. The way I all but threw myself into his arms. He had laid the path and I eagerly took it and never looked back.

Evy's laughter cut across the evening air and I glanced up. She was curled up in Benjy's arms as the two of them shared a lounge chair near the shallow end of the pool. My eyes narrowed as I heard her giggle his name. "Ah, young love," and I turned slightly as Morris stood next to me. "They seem to be back on good terms."

I shrugged and moved closer to him, my right shoulder brushing against his left arm. "I suppose. She's like Gregory in that respect. Always able to smooth everything over." I looked up at him as I whispered, "Always able to talk her way out of anything and make everyone forgive her."

"Things alright with you and her?" he asked and I nodded. Morris has nearly edged Bette out for the position of my closest confidante these last few months. Especially these last few weeks. He was the only one I could talk to about Gianni Cappello. Without knowing who the mysterious man was, it was the only name we had for him. "She really _is_ like Gregory," he mused and I felt my eyebrow arch. A moment later, he chuckled and explained, "You couldn't stay mad at him for long either."

With a halting chuckle, I smiled and looked back at the pool. "I couldn't," I whispered. "Not when he was so determined to fix things." Our eyes met quickly and I cleared my throat before I gestured to Evy with my chin. "As for them, they're…sweet."

Morris' deep laugh rolled over me as he exclaimed, "That sounded like it was painful for you to say."

With my arms folded against my chest, I shrugged. "Benjy is growing on me." But, it was true. Every time he was at the house, every time I saw him reach for Evy's hand, every time he looked at her and beamed, he became someone I disliked a bit less. "Gregory would have despised him."

"Oh, of course. Think he would've even let it get his far?"

My throat tightened as I gazed out at the horizon. "If he was here, Evy wouldn't even _be_ dating Benjy." I sniffed quickly as a tight boulder settled on my chest. But, it was true. Evy wouldn't have been here the last few months if Gregory hadn't died. Her path might not have crossed with Benjy's at all. After all, he was four years older than her. They weren't friends when they were growing up. "I suppose that doesn't matter anymore," I sighed, forcing myself to clear my throat. "Will you stay for dinner?" I asked, my voice tight as I changed the subject. "Casey's wife, Diana, is cooking. You haven't met her yet, have you?"

I could keep changing subjects for the rest of my life. But, it wouldn't change anything that really mattered.

Would it?

* * *

 _Casey_

"Casey, give the dressing a good shake." He nodded and reached for the mason jar, shaking it vigorously. "I think- I think that's everything. Let me just cut up the bread and then we can eat."

He was kind of impressed how quickly Diana and Allie settled into Gregory and Olivia's home. Maybe it was because they heard from Harrison and Nicola about what it was like living here every day. But, when he watched how easily his wife moved around the kitchen after only being there for a few days, it felt like a sign. Or something. It felt like everything was as it was supposed to be. His wife and his three children were all together with him again. Olivia and Evy were back from Sonoma, which meant it was the first time they'd all be eating dinner together. As a family. The Richards family.

"Case, we need eight plates, right?"

"Nine."

She looked over her shoulder as she reached into the cabinet. "We're five. Olivia and Evy make seven. Evy's boyfriend is eight."

"Morris makes nine." Even now, he looked through the window as the other man stood chatting with Olivia on the patio. "He's here every day. Better get used to it."

"Oh- _hh_?" she asked, her voice rising to a teasing pitch.

He put the mason jar down, the glass clinking against the marble countertop. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head as she quickly sliced up two loaves of French bread and dropped the pieces into a serving basked. "He's here every day. Olivia doesn't see anyone except family and Bette. And, now him. Do you think they might be becoming more than just friends?"

His jaw dropped. "No way. NO. God, Di, Gregory hasn't even been gone six months."

She brushed the bread crumbs from the cutting board and into the sink. "Mom started dating Harold three months to the day after we buried Dad."

He shook his head. "That's completely different. Your mother didn't even _like_ your dad."

With a shrug, she looked up and sighed. "I just mean…well, Olivia's attractive. She's only in her early sixties. That's young when you think that people are living into their nineties and longer. This isn't the end. She still has her life left to live."

His head continued to shake as he reached for the bread basket. "You weren't living here when Gregory was still alive. You didn't see what they were like together." With a small, but sad, smile, she touched his arm as he concluded in a whisper, "She's not the same anymore. Every now again, there's a flash of the way she used to be, but it's gone as quickly as it appears."

She pushed herself onto her toes and kissed him. "She's grieving. I _know_ that. I just think at some point, her grief will stop dominating her life. And, when that happens, there's no reason why she wouldn't start dating. If not Morris, then someone else."

This wasn't the sign he thought everything was pointing to. "I don't know," he murmured as Harrison walked into the kitchen. "Hey, buddy!" he said, forcing a cheerful voice. "Can you grab those two trays and bring them outside? Mom and I will be out in a minute with the other two."

Their teenage son nodded and carried off platters of tossed salad and roasted vegetables. "When do you think you'll talk to Olivia about changing our last name?" Diana asked as she unscrewed the mason jar and spooned the dressing over the grilled chicken.

"Soon."

She eyed him. "When is that? The lawyer said it could take a few months to get the court order. The paperwork won't go through before Allie starts at Arizona State, but it would be nice if Harrison and Nicola could start the new school year with their new last name."

Alexandra Richards. Harrison Richards. Nicola Richards. Diana Richards.

Casey Richards.

Casey _Richards_.

"Tomorrow," he promised, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "I promise."

* * *

 _Morris_

He had long ago stopped feeling the painful ache that came with being around Greg's family without him. Except now, the sharp pain had lessened to a familiar dull throb. It was always there. Especially any time he caught sight of Olivia's downcast expression.

Shadows curled up from the palm trees, shrubs, and flowers lining the perimeter of the patio. Pale lights shone through the leaves, twinkling and dancing as the wind gusted through the greenery. On the patio table, enough candles and light from the house let him see the way Olivia's thoughtful gaze was directed to the horizon. He knew she wasn't looking at the stars up above in the sky. Instead, he knew she was torturing herself by forcing her mind to remember what wasn't there. Forcing her mind to figure out why Gianni Cappello lied. Forcing her mind to understand why anyone would have an alternate version of what happened that January afternoon on a deserted hillside road outside of Florence.

"Stuff it, Allie!"

" _You_ stuff it, Harrison!"

He and Olivia both glanced up as Casey and Diana tried to settle the disagreement between their two eldest children. Across from them, Evy and Benjy's heads were together as they whispered, ignoring everything unfolding around them.

"You think you're Queen Bey, but you're really just Becky with the Good Hair!"

He flinched. Damn, he thought to himself as Olivia turned to him and rolled her eyes. "That's the wonderful thing about grandchildren," she muttered. "I let their parents deal with their arguments."

With a chuckle, he nodded and began, "Maya's three daughters are mean little shits to each other. The last time-"

"La-la-la-la-la! I can't hear you!" Harrison taunted.

"That's it! Harrison, your bedroom. Now!"

Olivia gasped and pressed her hands to her face, suddenly whimpering. He leaned forward quickly as Evy shot up from her seat. "Mom? Mom!"

He put his hand on Olivia's arm, feeling the way it trembled. "Olivia? Olivia, what's wrong?" he asked as she jerked away from the table, the silverware clattering against the plates. She was breathing heavily as a moaning cry rose in her throat. "Someone call 911!"

"Oh, God," he heard Olivia whimper as she pressed her fingers to the sides of her head. "Oh, God. I remember," she moaned as she squeezed her eyes shut. His stomach flipped and he watched the way her expression was twisted in pain. "I remember…everything."


	14. For a Moondance

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Fourteen: "For a Moondance"

 _I could always remember._

I shivered in my fur coat as I linked my arm through Gregory's. "I'll never eat again," I murmured, my heels clicking along the cobblestones as we walked back to the hotel. It would be a miracle if I didn't lose a heel to the cracks between the ancient stones. Gregory's laugh seemed louder in the winter air as he glanced over me. A maroon scarf was knotted around his neck, a touch of European flair to my thoroughly American husband. "What?" I asked, laughing in return.

"I'm surprised you ate it at _all_."

I leaned into him, letting his right arm go around my shoulders. "Why is that?"

"The mushroom risotto. You-"

" _Risotto ai funghi_ ," I corrected, glancing up in time to see the way his eyes rolled.

"Yes. That. You were so sick after eating it on our honeymoon that you swore off the dish for life."

I chuckled and shook my head slightly. "Gregory, that was more than forty years ago! Far too long to hold a grudge against something so delicious." The full moon overhead caught my attention and I stopped walking as I openly gaped at the night sky. Gregory's bare hand found my own and he squeezed gently. He always hated gloves and almost _never_ wore them. "Oh, darling. Look."

"I've seen the moon before," he whispered as he drew me against his chest. One of his hands cupped my face, directing its gaze until our eyes met. He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against mine.

My arms went around his neck as our kiss deepened. "But, when was the last time you saw the Italian moon?" I murmured against his lips. " _La luna_."

He chuckled, his breath crystallizing in the frigid air. I smirked as he brushed my hair back from my face, his fingers lingering on my ear lobe. "Come on, Diana," he said teasingly as he gently tugged my hand, imploring me to follow him. "Bedtime."

* * *

 _I remember._

I tightened the towel wrapped around my body and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. With a sigh, I reached out and wiped away the steam clouding the mirror. I frowned at the reflection looking back at me, illuminated by the white morning sunlight. The fine wrinkles around my eyes and mouth. The crepe skin of my neck. The tiny hint of a liver spot on my collarbone. "You're frowning," Gregory said from behind me. His voice echoed in the cavernous room, bouncing off the marble.

I scoffed as I watched him through the reflection. Steam from the bath water billowed around him like silver tendrils as he lay in the tub. "You don't know that. Your eyes are closed."

"You think I need to _see_ you to know what you're doing?" he murmured, squinting his eyes open.

With a shrug, I reached for the tube of moisturizer and squeezed a dime-sized drop into my palm. "You're looking now," I pointed out as I turned around, rubbing the cream onto my face and throat. "Besides, I wouldn't be frowning at my reflection if you weren't so opposed to Botox." With a grumbling sigh, he closed his eyes again and sank lower in the water. As I wiped the excess cream from my hands, I moved nearer to him and sat on the edge of the deep tub. I placed my index finger on the furrowed spot between his eyebrows and pressed gently. Slowly, he opened both eyes and looked up at me. "You have a headache," I whispered as the pad of my finger rubbed a circle into his flesh.

"Maybe a shot of Botox will make it go away," he muttered and I ignored the dig as I slid off the tub to kneel on the floor behind him. Blessedly, he couldn't see the way I grimaced as I bent down. Old age was _not_ for the seemingly young at heart.

As my fingers pressed through his hair and gently massaged his scalp, I leaned close to his ear and asked softly, "Should I call Sofia and reschedule the tour for this afternoon?" Thank God our real estate agent was fluent in English. I was sure that _reschedule_ was beyond my very limited proficiency in Italian.

A long moment went by before he shook his head. "No, let's just get it over with."

Slowly, I reached out, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "I'm sorry, darling," I whispered as his chin rested on my arm. "It's the last one we have to look at _and_ it's the one I like the most."

With a grunt, he wrenched around and looked up at me. The tension from his headache glinted in his eyes, but beyond that was the sentiment as familiar to me as breathing and one I _once_ took for granted: that Gregory would do _anything_ to make me happy. As I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, I heard him say, "But, if you decide you _hate_ it when you see it with your own eyes, we're _still_ leaving for Milan tomorrow."

With a barely there laugh sufficing as my reply, I rested my head against his. "Yes, I promised you a long weekend in _Milano_ ," I sighed with a happy smile. "While we're gone, Sofia will have plenty of time to dig up more listings."

His arm emerged from the steamy bath water and covered my hands with his own. "Liv, I don't think there's a villa left in Florence we haven't already toured."

Our laughter echoed together and I closed my eyes, my head still resting against his as I drew him close.

* * *

 _I remember._

Sofia's accented English seemed louder and more musical in the vast expanse of the empty 19th century villa 30 minutes outside of Florence. As Gregory asked her about the olive groves and lake which came with the property, I wandered over to the wood and glass doors which led to the stone patio. The view faced south and I couldn't help but gasp as I took in the rolling hillsides that went on for miles. It was _perfect_. It was the view I had dreamed about for more than a year.

As I turned back around, my eyes flickered over the silk wallpaper and down to the tile floor. We'd need to put down carpets. There's no way anyone could walk barefoot on them during the winter. "Well?" Gregory asked, his question low, despite having dismissed Sofia.

I was unable to keep the ear-to-ear smile from flashing before I covered my mouth with both hands. His pleased expression was impossible to miss as I gushed, "Oh, darling, it's perfect. _Perfect_."

"This is the one?" he asked as his hands crept beneath my fur coat to latch onto my hips. "Finally?"

I nodded as he drew me in, our chests pressed together. "It has enough bedrooms for everyone. _More_ than enough! Bette can even have a bedroom! It doesn't need any major renovations. It's not too far from town by car. It has a pool, so Evy will be pleased. Did she say if there were fish in the lake? Harrison and Greg will want to know if they can fish there." Gregory's crooked smile was barely enough to slow me down as I grabbed his hand and dragged him back to my spot by the window. "Look," I murmured as we looked out at the view. "It's like a painting."

His hand was warm against the back of my neck as he whispered, "It's the view you were waiting for." With a bashful smile, I nodded as he continued softly, "I'm going to offer twenty thousand below asking price, but they won't be too disappointed because it's a cash deal."

With a grateful sigh in my throat, I threw my arms around him. "And, we'll close by March, at the latest? I want to be settled in before Easter."

"I'll make it a condition of the offer," he said simply as he chucked my chin. Simply and decisively.

I leaned against him as he led us out the salon, my body trembling with excitement. "Easter in Italy. Everyone has their passports. There's no reason why they can't all come."

As we turned into the entrance hall, Sofia looked up and her expression suggested she already knew our decision. "Evy's spring break is in March," he reminded me softly. "She'll have a hard time getting away from her classes for a week in April too."

I groaned softly as Sofia clasped her hands and met us in the center of the grand foyer. "Well?" she asked with a knowing smile.

* * *

 _I remember._

"Just think, darling. These Cypress trees will one day be as familiar as Ocean Avenue." With a chuckle, and our new hilltop villa behind us, Gregory turned out on the main road from the private drive. "And, this means you'll _finally_ need to learn Italian."

"I'm fine with you speaking for me," he said before he sighed deeply.

His tone suggested he was irritated, but I know that's not it. I know his mind is going through everything that needs to take place for us to move in by the end of March. His hand rested on the gear shift and I reached out, placing mine over his. "What that sigh for?" I teased, pressing my fingers into the spaces between his.

He smirked as he drove down the winding hillside road. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth. "Liar," I whispered.

I watched him sigh and shake his head, feigning annoyance. "I'm an American driving a German car through the Italian countryside with my British wife as we listen to a Russian opera."

I glanced casually at the until-now-forgotten satellite radio. Of course, he _would_ notice the music droning in the background. I reached up and tapped on the presets until something in English wafted out of the speakers. "There. Is that better?"

 _Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance  
With the stars up above in your eyes_

He sighed again, seemingly unimpressed. "Now, we're listening to an Irish singer."

The rented Mercedes hugged the tight curve of the road, the spindly branches on the naked trees dancing in the breeze. With the coquettish giggle of the schoolgirl I hadn't been in _decades_ , I leaned across the console. As my lips brushed against his ear, I murmured, " _What_ a time to be alive, darling."

My fingers combed through the fine hair at the nape of his neck as he glanced over, amusement lighting up his expression. Slowly, I pulled my hand back and leaned back into the passenger seat. "Watch the road," I teased. "God forbid you forget your favorite piece of driving advice. God forbid there was _ever_ a time when I was driving when you _didn't_ remind me of it."

The car suddenly slowed and I looked up as Gregory swore beneath his breath. "Olivia, what the hell does that say?"

Men in reflective vests stood next to a bright yellow sign pointing in the direction of a side road. " _Deviazione_?" I pronounced carefully, squinting to decipher the unfamiliar word. My eye sight had weakened in the last year or so, but I stubbornly refused to wear the reading glasses I was _supposed_ to use.

"They weren't here when we came this way before."

I watched as the men pointed at the sign and gestured to the narrow side road on our right. "Well, they're here now. Perhaps there was a car accident further up?"

"Maybe," he sighed, nodding at them as he slowed the car and made the right onto the side road.

 _La, la, la, la  
In the moonlight _

* * *

_I remember._

"I swear to God, we're going back up into the hills," Gregory growled several minutes later.

I shrugged and looked up from my iPhone long enough to glance around. Not that the surroundings were in _any_ way familiar. "I'm sure the road is just looping us around the other side of the hill to meet the main road." Suddenly, I had an idea. I leaned forward and strained to see up through the angle of the windshield. "I wonder if we can see the house from here?"

His reply was lost in the sound of a crash, metal grinding and crunching against metal. We lurched forward, my hands slamming into the dashboard. I looked over my shoulder, seeing a large black SUV dangerously close to us. "Gregory!" Our car swerved, jerking from one side of the road to the other. The tires squealed against the road and I shrieked as we were hit again. A moment later, I was weightless as our car spun to the left, careening off the road and down the hillside.

* * *

 _I remember._

Banging.

I heard something banging.

My eyes flickered open and I blinked slowly through the darkness. I was wedged against the passenger door and it was a moment later before I felt the sticky warmth dripping down my face and throat. My vision spun as I struggled to lift my head, groaning at the movement. To look left. To see Gregory.

 _"Flip it now!"_

A moment later, the car groaned as it rolled right side up. My body bounced against the seat and I cried out as a searing pain went through the right side of my body. Nausea rose in my throat and my vision blurred. I narrowed my eyes, squinting through the dizziness to see Gregory unconscious in the driver's seat. "Darling…" My left hand clumsily fumbled with the seat belt lock, but it wouldn't budge. "Gregory," I gasped, reaching out to him, my fingers grazing the sleeve of his coat.

 _"Careful with her! The car rolled further than we thought! She might have broken bones!"_

The car shook as the passenger door groaned and opened, bitterly cold air sweeping through the car. Hands wearing black leather gloves reached in, tugging at the jammed seatbelt. My right shoulder was jostled and I screamed as another deeper pain rolled through me. _"Watch it! She isn't supposed to be hurt more than necessary!"_

My vision swam as the pain settled deep into my core, but it was still Gregory I struggled to focus on. Ugly red blood spilled out from a gash above his eye and I sobbed his name as an arm slipped beneath my legs. My fingers scratched against the material of his coat as I was lifted into the arms of someone dressed in black. My right side pressed into their chest and the pain flamed again, harder and longer than before. As I coughed on vomit and my eyes rolled back into my head, I heard, _"Get him out! Then, douse the car and light it up!"_

The stark white winter sky was the last thing I saw before everything went black.

* * *

 _Olivia_

My skull throbbed as newfound memories played like rapid fire. I squeezed my eyes shut, reliving them all at once. The glow from the moon surrounding us. The steamy water lapping against the tub. The way our voices echoed in the empty villa. The way my lips brushed across his skin as I leaned across the car's console. The weightless feeling as the car tumbled down the hill. "Oh, God. I remember," I groaned, my hands clenched to my head. "I remember…everything."

"What, Mom?" Evy's voice sounded very far away and the weight of someone's hand on my arm brought me back.

I squinted my eyes open as a shudder went through my body. "Your father had a headache. I should have cancelled the tour." A sob rose in my throat as I gasped, "But we liked the villa. He put in an offer. He didn't want to learn Italian. Diana. He called me Diana. I saw the moon and ate the risotto."

"Mom?" Evy's hands were on my knees as she crouched before me.

"I asked about fish in the lake for Harrison and Greg. There was a sign. We followed the road." I sat up, my voice sharp as I looked down at her. "It was big. The other car. It hit us again and again."

"Morris, what is she talking about?" Evy shrieked.

"Olivia, look at me." He was suddenly there next to me, worried.

I shook my head. "I remember! The people in black! They took us out of the car. Me first and then Gregory! They rescued him too!"

"Mom, no," my daughter sighed and I shook my head. "Dad died and-"

"Who were they, Olivia?" Morris interrupted, holding tight to my hands. "Who were they?"

"I- I don't…" I faltered and squeezed my eyes shut. "They said I wasn't supposed to be hurt. They said to get Gregory out. Douse it and light it up."

"I'm calling the doctor," I heard Casey say and I wrenched around in the patio chair. I saw Diana leading the children into the house, hugging Nicola to her."

"No, call the police!" I insisted. I turned back to Evy and Morris as I gasped, "They took Gregory!" I reached for Morris' hands and squeezed them insistently. "I remember, Morris! They took him out of the car! They _took_ him out!"

He was the only one who nodded. Evy sobbed as she stood and turned into Benjy's chest. "I'm calling the doctor," Casey repeated and I cried out, frustrated.

Why weren't they _listening_?

"I remember, Morris," I whimpered. "He was watching the road. He was!"

"I believe you, Olivia."

I shook my head and leaned forward, slumping against him as he hugged me close. My head continued to pound as I rested it on his shoulder. "He offered less than the asking price. I got him to wear a cashmere scarf. It was the view I was waiting for."

I remembered everything.

Everything.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics (and the titles of the story and each chapter) are from "Moondance" (written by Van Morrison)._


	15. Whisper and Hush

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Fifteen: "Whisper and Hush"

 _Casey_

"She wanted me to call the police, but I called the doctor instead. He came over and it took _awhile_ , but Evy and I convinced Olivia to take the sedative he brought with him. Mostly Evy." He sighed and gripped the steering wheel. It had been a late night and by the time Evy reported that Olivia was sound asleep, he was too wired to sleep. He had tossed and turned fitfully until it was time to go pick Sean up at the airport. Even then, he still arrived more than an hour early and spent the time pacing the cell phone waiting lot.

"Evy just texted back that Mom is still asleep," Sean sighed, slumped in the passenger seat and gripping a paper cup of coffee. "When I asked her if she thought Mom had a nervous breakdown, she sent me the angry face emoji."

He sighed deeply as he merged onto the exit ramp. "She- she took what happened last night really hard. She got really scared." Her reaction reminded him just how _young_ Evy was. Not that much older than Allie.

"Do you blame her?" he asked, his voice muffled against the plastic lid. "She's never had to see Mom like that before." A long moment of silence went by before he admitted, "I called Caitlin."

He nodded as they sat at the intersection, watching the glaring red light of the traffic signal. He expected as much. It was a chicken shit move, but he didn't want to be the one to call her. "What did she say?"

Sean's sigh segued into a groan as he sucked down more coffee. "She's wants to FaceTime with us when I get to the house."

"But, she's not coming, is she?"

"She wanted to. She wanted to drive down with Rory today, but Charlie wouldn't let her."

With a sigh of relief, he accelerated through the intersection as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "That's good. She shouldn't be traveling. Not yet." But, he was also relieved that he wouldn't have to play referee between her and Evy. Things were still tense between his sisters.

The next few minutes passed by in comfortable silence before he heard his brother clear his throat. " _Do_ you think it was a nervous breakdown?"

He felt his hands clench around the steering wheel, the ticking of the turn signal as he made the right onto Ocean Avenue. "I don't know, Sean," he finally admitted. "I don't know."

* * *

 _Olivia_

Morning. Sunlight. Quiet.

My eyes blinked open, the sheets and blankets heavy over my body. I watched the morning sun creep across the ceiling as I licked my dry lips. I hadn't felt this groggy in years. Not since the awful days when I would wake up hungover, covered in sick, and with the feeling my skull was only a heartbeat away from cracking open. I closed my swollen eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember what happened. Something had to have happened for me to feel this horrific and confused. A moment later, I gasped and my eyes opened.

I remembered.

I hadn't forgotten again.

With a shuddering sigh, I kicked the covers back and pushed myself up. "I remember," I whispered as I rubbed my face awake. "Gregory had a headache that morning."

My feet padded across the floor as I walked into the bathroom. I braced my hands on the marble countertop as I stood before the sink. The mirror hung before me and I watched the way my expression changed as I said softly, "We liked the villa. We made an offer."

An absurd giggle rose in my throat as I watched the woman in the reflection beam. I _still_ remembered. These memories hadn't disappeared as quickly as they reappeared. They were still with me. "Gregory made sure Sofia knew we wanted to move in before the end of March," I murmured as I brushed my teeth.

As I splashed cold water onto my face. "Van Morrison in the rental car as we drove back to the hotel. _All the night's magic seems to whisper and hush_."

As I ran a brush through my hair before I clipped it back. "The black SUV hitting us."

As I reached for Gregory's robe hanging behind the bathroom door. "We rolled down the hill."

As I tightened the belt around my waist and hurried back through the bedroom. "They said they needed to get Gregory from the car too."

As I rested my right hand over my heart, relief flooding my veins. "He didn't burn to death."

As I opened the bedroom door and heard Evy shriek as she fell backward and landed at my feet. "I remember," I sighed as Evy moaned and rubbed her head.

* * *

 _Evy_

Her knees were drawn tight to her chest, a poor cushion to her arms and head as her back pressed against Mom's closed bedroom door. She had sat on the floor in the hallway all night. Listening. Waiting. Worried. Scared. Had she even slept?

With a low groan, she sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. Next to her right hip, her phone vibrated against the hardwood floor. She glanced down, seeing the screen illuminated and displaying a text message bubble. Sean. She tapped the screen and read his message. _Do you think Mom had a nervous breakdown?_ She frowned, sucking in her breath as she picked up the phone and sent an emoji reply.

No.

No.

NO.

Their mother was not _crazy_. Their mother was not _unstable_. Their mother was not having a _breakdown_.

Thank _God_ it was Casey who picked Sean up at their airport and not her. She might have punched Sean if he asked her that to her face.

The bright screen stung her eyes and she winced, lowering the brightness as her phone buzzed again with another text message. Benjy. _Are you ok?_ With a tired sigh, she tapped the Call icon and held the phone to her ear. The line rang twice before she heard him repeat, "Are you ok?"

"I mean…" she whispered into the phone. A sob rose in her throat and she shook her head, not that he could see. "No."

Her teeth caught the tip of her left thumb as he asked, "Want me to come over?"

"Yes. No. You better not," she sighed breathlessly. "Sean took the first flight out of Seattle and Casey went to pick him up. They'll be back any minute, I think."

A long minute of silence went by and she heard him ask, "Are you sure? I don't have to come inside. We can talk in the driveway. I just- I'm worried about you."

Her heart skipped a beat as she nodded. "I'm just tired…and scared."

"I know," he said softly.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I sat in the hallway outside Mom's bedroom all night. Nothing happened, but-"

"You're worried about her."

She nodded and rested her pounding head against Mom's bedroom door. "I've never seen her like that before," she admitted, letting her heavy eyes close. "Manic. Not making sense. She kept insisting that she wouldn't go to sleep because then she'd forget everything again." Mom wouldn't take the sedative the doctor left until she burst into tears and begged her to swallow it. She remembered the way Mom's expression fell as she reached out, her palm cool against her cheek as she sighed. _Promise me, Evy. If I forget everything in the morning, you'll tell me everything. You'll remember for me. Promise me._

"Sean must be worried too if he came down from Seattle. Is Caitlin coming too?"

She opened her eyes slowly, Mom's pleading voice echoing in her exhausted brain. "Don't think so," she murmured, "but I'm sure she'll make her presence known."

"Be nice," he said and she heard his car's security alarm chirp.

"I'm always nice," she muttered. "You going to work?"

"Yeah, but I can-"

"No, no." She switched the phone to her other ear. "Go to work." Her heart seized as she asked quickly, her voice sharp, "Hey. Have you seen your dad this morning?"

"At breakfast," he replied. "Don't worry. I didn't tell him what happened with your mom…and I won't."

A grateful sigh rose in her throat. "Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me, Evy. I would never say anything that would hurt you. You or your family." Her eyes turned up slowly and her skin rose to goosebumps, instinctively knowing what was coming. "I love you," he said softly.

She bit the corner of her lip, unable to hide the smile on her face. "I love you too," she whispered.

He didn't say anything, but she heard the way he inhaled. She felt his smile in the silence that stretched between. "I love you," he repeated, happier than she'd ever heard him before.

"I love-" The pressure of the wood door behind her back disappeared and she was suddenly weightless as she fell backward. Her back slammed into the floor and her head followed a moment later. "OW!" she groaned, her skull throbbing as her iPhone clattered out of her hand.

Momentarily stunned, she looked up, seeing Mom standing over her. Mom's face was perplexed, as if she was surprised to find her laying on the floor. But, all she said was, "I remember."

With a groan, she pushed herself up and reached for the phone. "Benjy, I got to go," she said, ignoring the way he worriedly called her name. "No, no, I'm ok. But, I gotta go. See you tonight." Ignoring the aches and the stinging newfound circulation in her legs, she stood and rested her body weight against the doorjamb. "You're awake," she gasped.

Mom's smile was amused as she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Like she was five years old and needed to be checked for a fever. "Why were you on the floor, darling?"

"I-" she began as Mom kissed her cheek as she breezed past her. She spun around, watching Mom go down the hall. "Mom!" she called out, limping after her on her barely awake legs. "Mom, wait!"

* * *

 _Sean_

He followed Casey up to the house, listening as Evy's phone went straight to voicemail. "She's not picking up," he announced as Casey unlocked the door.

 _"Mom, wait up!"_

They stepped into the foyer as Evy's voice echoed in the stairwell. A moment later, Mom stepped off the last step and flinched in surprise when she saw them. He dropped his overnight bag and rushed to her. She seemed older since he last saw her a few weeks ago. Somehow. "Sean! What are you doing here?" she gasped as he threw his arms around her. He felt like a child again, throwing himself into her arms after a nightmare or later, a fight with Dad. She cupped his face, gazing deep into her eyes. "Darling? What's wrong?"

Concerned for him. Confused as to why he'd be here. As if last night hadn't happened. "Mom," he croaked, hugging her tight against him. "Are you alright?"

She chuckled as she nudged his face up so his eyes were even with fine. "Yes, darling. I'm fine." She smiled back at him, her blue eyes bright against her pale flesh. Her palms were a familiar warmth against his cheeks as she sighed, "Darling, I _remember_!"

"Remember, Mom?" he asked as his chest tightened. Her hands fell from his face only to take his hands a moment later. She led him over to the sofa, talking a mile a minute. As he sat next to her, vaguely aware of Casey and Evy behind them, his eyes never left her face. Her eyes darted and shone as she squeezed his hand insistently. He watched her closely, looking for the old signs he couldn't help but force himself to recall on the plane. The unnatural pallor. The fogginess in her eyes. The slur of her words. The unsteadiness in her walk. The way she reeked of alcohol. He sighed sadly, beyond ashamed that he found himself looking at her the way he used to when she drank. "Wait, what? What SUV?"

She sighed, the first sign of annoyance he'd seen from her. "The one that hit us, Sean!"

He wrenched around, looking to Casey and then Evy. Casey stood sheepishly, his hands buried in the pockets of his shorts. But, it was Evy who gave him pause. Evy, who looked so heartbroken she suddenly reminded him of Caitlin. Caitlin always took it personally whenever Mom fell off the wagon. He turned back around, finding her watching him expectantly as she waited. "Mom, when you were in the hospital, the police told Casey and I it was ice. The car skidded on black ice."

She moaned, suddenly frustrated as she threw his hands away. "No, Sean! I remember! I remember it was cold that day, but it was a mild cold. There was _no_ ice on the road. There couldn't have been!"

"Mom, I-" he croaked.

"Darling, I remember! I REMEMBER! Why don't you believe me?" she cried, looking at him and then past him to Casey and Evy. "Why don't any of you _believe_ me?"

* * *

 _Caitlin_

"She said what?" she asked, clutching her newborn daughter to her chest. Rory's eyes were closed and her lips were pursed as she slept soundly. So far, the infant was undisturbed by the video chat streaming from her tablet propped up on the kitchen table.

She squinted at the screen as Sean's phone was passed from him, over Evy, and to Casey. She could tell they were in the pool house, sitting on the sofa. He cleared his throat and said diplomatically, "She's upset that we're… _doubtful_ …of what she's remembering."

The video shook as Sean took the phone back. "She's not making sense, Cait. What Mom's saying can't possibly be real."

Her throat tightened, his words sinking in as she heard what was unspoken. What she saw in his face. Sean was afraid. Slowly, she nodded as Evy leaned into view. "But, it's real to her."

The back of her index finger rubbed against Rory's silky soft cheek as she asked, "What do you mean?"

Evy took the phone and she felt her younger sister's gaze as deeply as if she was sitting in the kitchen with her. "I just…" she sighed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. With another deeper sigh, she tried again. "I mean, she's been driving herself crazy trying to remember what happened the day Dad died. She wants so _desperately_ to remember. You and Sean don't know what it's like," Evy continued and she felt an annoyed flush go through her body, "to just see her sitting there with this vacant and sad look on her face. She's been that way for months."

"Evy-"

"I mean," she said, like she hadn't heard her, "Mom wants to remember something. Suddenly, _finally_ , memories are there. Does it matter if they're real or not? They're giving her peace."

"Of course it matters!" she hissed, glancing quickly down to make sure Rory was still asleep. "This isn't a good sign that she's delusional and convinced that something impossible actually happened!"

Evy's expression turned as she held Sean's phone closer to her face. "You didn't hear her last night, Cait! She sounded so relieved and grateful! She-" her voice cracked as she sobbed and shook her head. "She told me she was so relieved to know that Dad didn't burn to death in that car. Did you all know that? She's had nightmares FOR MONTHS of Dad screaming as he was burned alive."

"Jesus, Evy! Enough!" she exclaimed and she felt Rory's little body tense up in her arms a moment later. Tears burned her eyes as she whispered, "Damnit."

"Why are you mad at me?" she heard Evy marvel and she looked up to see Sean take the phone again. "I'm only telling you all what _Mom_ said!"

Luckily, Rory stayed asleep and she gently shifted the little girl against her chest, her small head beneath her chin. "Sean?" she asked, hearing how tense her own voice sounded. "How does she look?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. She-"

With her arms shielding her new daughter, she heard herself ask a question she would've thought _unthinkable_ just a few months ago. She needed to get straight to the point, like Daddy would've done. "Does she look like she's drinking again, Sean?"

There was a loud gasp and the video shook as Evy grabbed the phone. Her expression was thunderously twisted as she angrily insisted, "Take that back, Cait! Take it back!"

"Evy," she heard Sean interject at the same time she replied, "It's a legitimate question, Evy. You don't have to _like_ it."

"Mom's _not_ drinking!" Sean took the phone again, angling it so she could see Evy turn to their other brother. "Casey, tell them! You've been around Mom every day, just like me! You know Mom isn't drinking!"

"You don't know what she was like when she drank, Evy," she heard herself say, her voice tight, as she watched her sister turn back. " _You_ got her when she was sober. You never had to trip over her bottles of vodka. You never had to put her to bed when she was drunk, hoping she wouldn't choke on her own vomit. You never had to watch Daddy hold her up beneath a cold shower to get her conscious. You never had to go to sleep wondering when or if she would come home alive."

Evy's face fell and she looked suddenly younger than her nineteen years. Her chin trembled as she blinked her brown eyes. Daddy's eyes. "Mom is _not_ drinking," she said, her voice flat, "and I'm _done_ with this."

"Evy, wait!" she heard Casey call out a moment before she heard the pool house door slam.

She lowered her face, breathing in the sweet smell of Rory's head. She could feel her own heart pounding in her chest, wondering if the pounding would disturb or comfort her sleeping child. "Jesus," she heard Sean say.

"Listen, for what it's worth, I don't think Olivia is drinking either," Casey said softly.

She nodded, watching as her two brothers suddenly filled the screen. Brushing her long hair back, she listened as Sean quickly said, "I checked Cait. There's alcohol in the house – I mean, there _always_ was, even when Dad was alive – but Casey said nothing's gone suspiciously missing the last few weeks."

With a sad smile, she suggested, "She was always good at hiding her liquor. Remember when Daddy made a game of it? It was Hide and Seek, but what we were looking for was Mom's secret stashes of alcohol. He said we would make her better if we found it all."

"Cait-"

"I don't want to think Mom has started drinking again," she whispered against her daughter's head. "But, you said she sounded manic. She's not making sense. She had some kind of… _episode_ last night." And, she _wasn't_ there for it. She hadn't been home in months. And, it would be several more weeks, at the very earliest, when she would see her mother again. When she could be there to take care of her. _Finally_.

Casey cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Cait, you were with Olivia up until two days ago. How did she seem to you?"

She sat back thoughtfully, replaying the three days Mom and Evy were in Sonoma. Mom was excited to meet Rory. Solemn as she listened to the significance of her new granddaughter's name. Affectionate as always with Greg, Mikey, and Blake. "She seemed…almost like herself." A spasm shook her throat as she explained, "Like the way she was before Daddy died."

Casey and Sean both nodded, mulling over her words. "Maybe. Maybe what happened last night was just…stress."

"Stress?" she and Sean asked in unison.

"Stress from trying so hard to remember what happened and not being able to. Stress because Gregory's will is being challenged by one of his former mistresses. Stress because AJ and Ben made a play for control at Liberty. Stress because of Evy. I mean, God, stress because Gregory's dead and she's still upset. The way we're all upset." There was a long moment of thoughtful silence before Casey finally said, "Maybe she needs to see a therapist."

There was another interminable silence, but she was the one who broke it. "Ask Bette for a name. Someone we can trust."

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics Olivia sings are from "Moondance" (written by Van Morrison)._


	16. I'm Trying

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Sixteen: "I'm Trying"

 _Morris_

"Man, how does that even make sense? I'm going to need you to explain that to me."

Next to him, Rebecca took a deep breath and nodded. A moment later, a stream of rapid-fire Italian tumbled out of her mouth, rising in pitch as she translated his question. It was his luck, he supposed, that the _one_ police officer who didn't speak much English in Florence was the one assigned to Gregory and Olivia's car accident. Sergeant Angelo Gori. It had taken _days_ for him to get Gori on the phone. Apparently, he spent a lot of time in the field. Doing what, God only knew.

He shook his head, hearing Gori's reply but unable to understand a single word. The keyboard of the laptop clicked as Rebecca immediately transcribed the response into English and he leaned over her shoulder to read it. Blah, blah, blah – illegal immigration – blah, blah, blah. The phone line fell quiet and he let Gori sit in the uncomfortable silence as he read the rest of the transcription. "So, you and your boys are comfortable with a key witness giving you false information about who they are?"

Intervention from Rebecca.

A deep sigh echoed across the line and he suddenly had a vision of Gori rubbing his eyes, frustrated and exhausted. Well, join the club. "What you want us to do, eh?" he asked, his broken English dancing briefly in the tension before he switched back to Italian. Do more, he thought to himself as he continued to watch the laptop screen over Rebecca's shoulder. Do a hell of a lot more. Blah, blah, blah – yes, it is suspicious – blah, blah, blah – refugee crisis – blah, blah, blah. "Maybe," Gori concluded, switching back to English, "we build big beautiful wall like America, yes?"

Next to him, he saw Rebecca's spine stiffen as Gori chuckled, seemingly pleased with his own joke. He cleared his throat and pulled the speaker phone closer. "So, forget about Gianni Cappello – or whatever his real name is – for a second. Could he have managed to rescue Gregory Richards from the car too? Forget what _he_ said happened. What does the _evidence_ say?"

As Rebecca relayed his next questions, his cell phone vibrated loudly on the desk. He reached for the device, seeing an incoming call from Olivia. He typed out a text message reply, promising that he was on his way shortly. After he tossed the phone back on the desk, he rubbed his face and sighed. _They said to get Gregory out. Douse it and light it up._ He looked at the screen, reading Gori's response. He insisted the Italian coroner's report showed Gregory's burned remains were found inside the car in the driver's seat. "Why you ask?" he heard Gori say.

 _They said to get Gregory out. Douse it and light it up._

"Just curious," he murmured. "Listen, Gori, I'd like you to scan and email copies of all the reports about the car accident."

After Rebecca finished translating, he heard Gori immediately begin to stutter. "No. No. _Assolutamente_ no!"

He leaned close, speaking directly into the speaker phone. "Yes, you can. And, you will. Mrs. Richards requested them months ago. She's done waiting. She'd like them. Immediately. What's it going to cost?" He stood abruptly, not caring to read the price of Gori's cooperation. Olivia would give him whatever amount he asked for without hesitation. He shrugged into his blazer, listening to the sound of papers shuffling and breathing from Gori's end.

 _They said to get Gregory out. Douse it and light it up._

He was right. They hadn't been told the truth about the car accident.

Or Gregory's death.

* * *

 _Evy_

"Feels nice to be out of the house, right?"

She glanced up at Benjy and forced herself to smile, to nod. But, it wasn't nice. It was stressful. Mom was home – alone – and _anything_ could be happening. Casey was spending the day with Diana and the kids in San Diego. She was still convinced that Caitlin and Sean were wrong. Mom was not drinking again. But, that didn't mean that there wasn't still something wrong. Mom just…wasn't herself.

"Liar," he sighed as he hugged her close and kissed her forehead. She glanced up, apologetic as he continued, "I thought you wanted a break from Van Morrison."

She frowned and glanced around the restaurant. But, no one within earshot appeared to care about what two college students at a corner table were whispering about. "You promised you wouldn't say anything about that," she hissed, leaning back against her chair. Mom listening to the same song on repeat for days was _not_ something she wanted getting around town.

"Evy, of course I didn't say anything about it to anyone else. But, I didn't think that meant I couldn't say anything about it to _you_."

She shook her head as she sighed deeply, her elbows digging into the table as she hid her face in her hands. "Sorry," she murmured, peaking over at him. With another deep sigh, she admitted, "Being on eggshells is exhausting."

He leaned on the table, closer, and whispered, "Why are you on eggshells?"

"I don't think Caitlin and Sean are right about Mom drinking. But…"

His voice was gentle as he suggested, "You're watching her like a hawk, just to be sure."

She felt her eyes fill with tears, shame consuming her as she nodded. "Mom's so angry with all of us. She's _furious_." She was furious they thought she started drinking again. She was furious they didn't trust her. She was furious they were treating her like a child. Most of all, she was furious they didn't believe her. "And, she's not drinking, but there's something _wrong_ with her. Like, _really_ wrong."

Benjy reached out, rubbing her back. "You know, people handle grief differently. _Really_ differently. And, how long were your parents married?"

"43 years," she murmured. She knew her parents story like the back of her hand. Mom had been her age when she met Dad. Nineteen. She couldn't even imagine her own life 43 years from now. She had a sudden urge to know if Mom had been able to see that far into her own future when she met Dad.

"So, she and your dad were together for more than 40 years. But, it's been barely five months since he died." She turned her face to him, listening quietly as he continued to rub her back and concluded, "I'd say it's only fair she get another couple of months to get used to living without him."

She nodded. He was right. Of course, he was right. God, why couldn't _she_ think this logically when Cait and Sean were sending her text after text after text? "I should get her something," she murmured, her mind wandering as she closed her eyes. "Something to distract her. Something to surprise her and make her smile." She opened her eyes again, a wistful smile on her face. "She and Dad got me Tater Tot for my fifth birthday. It was a _huge_ surprise."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

She nodded, remembering the way she burst into tears when she saw Tater Tot snuggled in Mom's arms for the first time. "I'd been begging for a dog for months. Dad and I were both allergic, but I didn't care. And then, at my party, Dad said a gift had been left inside and Mom went to get it. God, don't you remember? Weren't you at my fifth birthday party?" She watched him balk as she saw the thoughts wave across his face. "I remember going to your birthday parties. I _always_ remember our parents forcing us to be friends when we were really little."

With a chuckle, he rubbed his face and shrugged. "I might have been. But you know, at your fifth birthday, I would've probably sulked in the corner because I was a mature lad of nine."

She rolled her eyes as she moved her chair closer and nuzzled against him. "I'm sure being at a five-year-old _girl's_ birthday party really cramped your style."

"Totally," he laughed, kissing her softly as a teasing voice exclaimed, "Well, aren't you two just the _cutest_?"

She glanced over her shoulder, hearing Benjy clear his throat as she said, "Hi, Aunt Bette." She stood, hugging the older woman tightly as she noticed the older man staring as he neared them. "What are you doing here?"

"Having a lunchtime cocktail with an old frie- oh, AJ! There you are!"

She smirked as Benjy stood, his hands on her shoulders as Aunt Bette introduced the two men. Well, well, well. AJ Deschanel. She knew Mom dated AJ before she met Dad. She eavesdropped on Aunt Bette's conversation with Mom a few weeks ago about AJ being back in town for the town's centennial. "And, AJ, this Gregory and Olivia's youngest child, Evy."

AJ reached out, taking hold of her right hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "You don't look at all like Olivia," he marveled, his eyes moving over her and she forced a pleasant smile to her lips.

"Everyone says that. Mom always said I was a mirror image of Dad," she explained, gently pulling her hand back. "Sean and I both."

Benjy's chest was against her back as Bette chuckled. But, AJ's eyes never left her face. "Extraordinary," he murmured and she couldn't help the shudder that went through her. This guy was a total _creeper_. God, _what_ had Mom seen in him?

"And, what are you two love birds up to this afternoon?"

She stood still, unwilling to break AJ's stare first. "Just…you know, stuff."

From behind her, Benjy chuckled. "That's Evy's way of saying 'Benjy has an afternoon of surprises planned'." Aunt Bette laughed in reply as he asked, "How about you, AJ? Any plans with Bette this afternoon?"

She smirked as AJ broke their stare when he heard Benjy say his name. With a pleased sigh, she watched the charming smile return to his face. "Unfortunately, young man, this is a business lunch."

Aunt Bette chuckled and looped her arm through his. "That's what he thinks. _Ciao_ , you two," she called out as she gently pulled him away.

AJ's blue-gray eyes lingered on her for a long moment before he turned away. She frowned and turned back to him. "You think they're dating?" she asked, her mind working hard.

He shrugged. "Beats me." With a gentle tug of her hand, he pulled her back and said, "Come on. Let's finish up here and go for a walk on the beach."

She turned back to him, her eye brow arched. "Actually, I wanted to go somewhere else. Up for a drive?"

He grinned, melting her heart. "I'll go anywhere with you."

* * *

 _Olivia_

I was supposed to be listening to Ken, but I wasn't. I couldn't. He was trying so hard to bring me back into the fold at the radio station, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. I nodded vaguely, pretending to follow along as a newfound memory flashed before my eyes. My arms around Gregory, hugging him in the tub. The way the steam curled around us. The way the almond bath oil perfumed the space. The way his chin felt against my arm. The way we laughed together, the sound echoing off the marble. The way my head rested against his.

 _"So, what do you think?"_

I glanced up, finding Ken watching expectantly. With a sigh, I began, "Ken, I'm sorry. I'm trying. I really am, but-"

"You're not trying."

I blinked. His declaration hung between us, free from any anger or frustration. It was just an observation from a profoundly honest person. "I'm not," I admitted, leaning back into my leather chair. He sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "I don't care," I continued in a whisper. "I just don't."

"I know," he replied.

With a framed photo of Gregory and I at the periphery of my vision, I asked, "Do you think Hettie Communications still wants to buy WHOC? They wanted it three years ago." But, I was stubborn then. I also wasn't a widow then.

Ken's face turned thoughtfully as he sat back. "I haven't heard any rumblings from them."

Our hushed voices seemed shockingly loud in my office, but this wing of the house was empty. Just my office, Gregory's study, and a small guest bedroom. "Put out a line," I suggested.

He watched me for a long moment before he sighed. "Are you sure this is what you want? You've owned the station for more than thirty years."

I only nodded in reply as he dropped his file folder back into his briefcase and snapped it close. "You deserve to work for someone who _actually_ listens to you."

He reached for his briefcase and stood. "You always listen to me."

"I did before," I pointed out as I stood and led him out. "But, I'm finished now. I have nothing left." I felt myself sigh, but it was the only thing I felt.

As we walked into the foyer, Ken turned to me and asked, "Did I ever tell you I was going to quit when Gregory turned the station over to you?"

I smiled and leaned in. "You didn't exactly make it a _secret_ that you hated me that first year."

He laughed aloud and shook his head. "I didn't hate you. But, it was frustrating to work for someone who didn't know what the hell they were doing." With a soft chuckle, I met his gaze as he continued in a low voice, "But, you never asked a question more than once. You listened. And, you quickly figured out what the hell you were doing."

My throat tightened as I nodded and reached for his hand. "Thank you for not quitting," I said softly as I squeezed his hand. "Gregory got me through the first year, but you got me through all the years that came after."

He nodded and cleared his throat and I pulled my hand back, not wanting to embarrass him further. "I'll take my time with Hettie, just in case-"

I shook my head. "I won't. I know I won't."

"Alright," he sighed, reaching for the door. "I'll be in touch when I hear from them."

"Thank you, Ken." He smiled over his shoulder as he left and I reached out and closed the front door behind him. With a deep exhale, I leaned back against the door and pressed my hands over my tight chest. Hettie would buy. They'd be making a mistake if they didn't. I trusted Ken to negotiate for the best deal possible. Gregory's voice echoed from deep within my mind. _And then what will you do, Liv?_

"Is he gone?"

I glanced over, hearing my daughter's voice from behind the door that led to the dining room. "Evy?" I called out.

"Obviously. So, is Ken gone?"

I frowned and stepped away from the door, watching as she poked her head out. "Yes. Why?"

She pushed open the door and came through, leading a hesitant looking spaniel on a leash. My stomach dropped as the dog looked up at me, its tail wagging slowly as my daughter explained, "Because I remember how much he hated Tater Tot. Like, more than Dad hated her."

Gregory didn't hate Tater Tot, my brain insisted. He just…was annoyed by her presence in our home. My jaw dropped as I glanced from her, to the dog, and back to her. "Evelyn, what is _this_?"

She laughed as she crouched next to the dog, scratching behind its ear. The dog immediately lay down and rolled over, belly up. "Mom! What does it look like?"

My lips pressed into a thin line as I watched her giggle and scratch the dog's exposed stomach. It was a female dog. "What's it doing here?"

"She. You mean, 'what's _she_ doing here?'." She glanced up, smiling brightly. "She's lives here. I adopted her from the rescue shelter."

I frowned and folded my arms against my chest. "And, you're taking her back to school with you at the end of summer?"

Her face turned and I sighed. I knew it. The moment I saw her walk in with that dog, I just _knew_. "I got her for you!" I heard her explain as I sighed again, deeper and longer. "It's a surprise!" I tapped my foot, irritated, and the dog immediately rolled over and snapped to attention. She trotted over and promptly sat at my feet she looked up expectantly. "See! Look! She loves you already!"

"What am I supposed to do with her?" I asked as the dog continued to gaze up at me as her mouth parted and she wagged her tail energetically.

"The same stuff we did with Tater Tot!" She stood and came over to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. "Oh, look!" she gasped as the dog looked at her briefly before she turned back to me. "She's smiling at you!"

"For God's sake, Evy," I huffed as the dog continued to gaze up at me with adoration dripping from her expression. "Dogs don't smile," I insisted. The moment I said those three words, a chill went down my spine.

She froze and looked over. "Dad used to say that about Tater Tot," she whispered. "You always told him he was wrong when he did."

Damn. With a grimace, I kneeled and held out my hand. With a tentative sniff, the dog's snout nuzzled against my palm before she gave it a shy lick. "What's her name?" I asked softly, petting her head.

Her sandy brown coat shone as I heard Evy reply, "You're going to laugh. It's _such_ a coincidence."

My hands found the tender spots behind her ears and I scratched gently, indeed causing the dog to smile wider. "Why? What is it?"

Evy giggled and sat on the floor next to me. "Her name is Pancake."

I chuckled as beneath my hand, the dog's head perked up when she heard her name. "Another dog named after food." I looked into the dog's bright onyx eyes and whispered, "Pancake." Her mouth parted deeper as her tongue hung out of her mouth.

"The woman at the shelter told Benjy and I that one of the kid volunteers named her that because her coat is brown like a pancake." She sighed deeply and looked down, reaching out to run her hand down the dog's back. "But, it felt like a sign…because Dad always made the best pancakes, you know?" A lump settled in my throat as I nodded, but said nothing else as I continued to scratch behind Pancake's ears. "Mom?"

I glanced over as she sighed deeply. "Would it make you happy if I told you I believed you? About what you remembered?"

" _Do_ you believe me?" I asked. None of them did.

Her face fell and she shrugged. "I want to," she whispered, "I really _really_ want to. I don't want…you to be sad anymore. But- I just- I mean, I don't-"

She sighed and shook her head and I gently let go of Pancake's head as I reached for her hand. Of course it didn't make sense to her. She wasn't there. She didn't see what I saw. She didn't hear what I heard. "It's alright, darling," I whispered as she sobbed and I hugged her close. She didn't know that Gianni Cappello was fake. She didn't know he had vanished without a trace. She didn't know because _I_ didn't know why any of this happened. Why someone – anyone – would cover up how Gregory died. Why they would want him dead in the first place.

"But, Mom…"

Her head found my shoulder as she turned her face into my neck. It was the same way she would burrow into my arms when she was a cuddly toddler before bedtime. "Earlier this morning, I called the real estate agent Daddy and I were using in Florence."

She looked up quickly, blinking back tears. "What? Why?"

I smoothed back her blonde hair and whispered, "Because Daddy put in an offer on the last villa we saw. We were driving back from it when…" My words dried up in my throat. It felt morally wrong to call it a car _accident_. It wasn't an accident. Someone forced us from the road. Someone left Gregory for dead and made it look like an accident. "After," I continued, clearing my throat, "our offer lapsed because we never completed the closing paperwork. But…" And I felt the smile lifting my heart stretch to my lips.

"But, what?" Evy asked as Pancake nudged between us to sit in the middle.

"No one else bought it either. It's just sat there all this time." I could still hear the way Sofia's gasp echoed across the phone line as I told her, the way I'm telling Evy now, "I want it."

Evy's jaw dropped. "You bought it?"

I shrugged and gripped her shoulders as I stood. I was far too old to be kneeling on the floor for this long. "I repeated the same offer that Daddy made in January. Hopefully, the owners will still accept it. Sofia seemed confident they would back then."

Pancake rubbed her body against my right calf as Evy stood and stuttered, "But, Mom, are you sure? I mean…" Her voice fell away as she watched me for a long moment.

"Darling," I sighed as I reached out and cupped her face, "it was the last place I was with Daddy. We wanted to buy it." Gregory wanted it because I wanted it, but that didn't matter. "It's supposed to be ours."


	17. All the Leaves on the Trees

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Seventeen: "All the Leaves on the Trees"

 _Casey_

"Watch your step," he called out as he walked between steel girders. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Ben extend his hand as Olivia followed them through the narrow opening. He exhaled deeply as a flood of relief coursed through him. The tour of the construction project had gone well. Even Ben seemed impressed with the progress they were making. As Olivia and Ben joined him, he clasped his hands and gestured to the open space. "This will be the ground level communal space for the residents. It'll have a pool, hot tub, and splash park." He pointed in the south corner and added, "We'll have a fire pit and benches there, opposite the grills."

Olivia nodded and followed his gaze as she asked, "Permits?"

He nodded and explained, "The city issued them to the contractor yesterday. Shauna's newest project report will have that milestone marked complete."

"Excellent," she murmured, glancing pointedly at Ben before she turned back to the communal space.

"It's totally barren now," he explained, "but picture it: the space will be lined with trees and all the leaves on the trees providing shade. A bit of a tropical oasis in this concrete jungle."

"What kind of palm trees?" Ben asked as he nonchalantly looked around, adjusting his hard hat.

"Giant Mountain Fishtails," he replied instantly. He felt as petty as a teenager as he thought, _Suck it, Ben_ , when the other man blinked and nodded slightly. He glanced quickly at Olivia and she winked discreetly when their eyes met. "Isn't this all a bit much for affordable housing?"

He felt Olivia's eyes on him as he began, "Only forty percent of the units will be affordable. The remaining sixty percent will be market-rate rent." As Ben nodded reluctantly, he casually said, 'Besides, the tax credits we've been awarded for making some of the units affordable will more than help close the gap on our expenses."

"Well, Casey," Ben mused, "this is all extremely impressive. It's always exciting to see our plans come to life." He glanced down at the phone in his hand and frowned. "If you'll both excuse me, I need to take this call."

Olivia nodded vaguely as he left them, his phone urgently pressed to his ear. "Well done," she said, standing next to him.

"You really think?" he asked, unable to keep the nervous grin from his face.

"Absolutely." She grimaced and glanced down at her feet. "God, these steel toe boots are terribly uncomfortable."

He chuckled. "Just think: you won't need them after today for four more weeks." That was when the next construction site tour was scheduled.

"I can hardly wait." As he chuckled to himself, he felt her hand brush against his and she cleared her throat. "You did your homework and more than demonstrated you're intimately aware of every aspect of this project. Gregory would've been very proud of you."

His throat tightened and his vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. With a quick nod, he dramatically cleared his throat as he looked into his stepmother's eyes. To say that the family was worried about her was a _gross_ understatement. The memory of her breakdown at a dinner two weeks ago was still fresh in his mind. Not that anyone would admit aloud it was a breakdown. But, looking at her now, it was enough to pretend that she was fine, even though sadness clung to her more visibly than before. "This isn't the right time," he muttered to himself, chastising the thought he refused to recognize.

"What isn't the right time?"

He smiled broadly and shook his head. "Nothing. It can wait. Come on, let's go you out of here."

She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly to hold it in place. "What isn't the right time?" she repeated.

With a deep sigh, he rubbed his mouth. "Now really _isn't_ the right time," he began. "It's not how Diana and- it's not how I wanted to talk with you about this."

"Is something-"

"Nothing's wrong," he interjected. "I just- I just wanted to ask- to make sure that-"

She squeezed his hand again. "It's alright, Casey. Just say it."

With his heart pounding in his ears, throat, and chest, he took a deep breath and, on the exhale, asked, "I want to change our name to Richards." As Olivia's lips parted, he rushed to continue, "Mine, Diana's, and the kids. I- I don't want us to have John's name."

He watched Olivia's face fall as she sucked in her breath. "Do you think you need permission?" she asked.

He shook his head slightly. "But, I want to know you don't mind." I want to know that Gregory wouldn't have minded. I want to know he would've been happy.

Her expression melted as she reached out, wrapping her arms around him. "Of course, I don't," she said into his ear as he hugged her back. "This would've meant the world to Gregory that you want to do this."

He closed his eyes as a grateful sigh went through his entire body.

* * *

 _Olivia_

"I'll see you back at the house," Casey called out from the gate of the construction site. With a gentle wave, I removed my hard hat as I walked across the parking lot to my car. As necessary as they were, I hated wearing the hard hat and boots at the construction sites. Heaving an abrupt sigh, I tried hard not to remember the way Gregory would tease me about them at the other site tours we made together. What was the good in that?

With a deep sigh, I ignored the dull throb in my right shoulder as I reached into my purse for the car keys. Driving was not something I've missed in the months since Gregory died. But, everything comes back to us in the end. Except for the dead. They stay dead. As my fingers slipped around the keys, I looked up and my eyes narrowed. Ben leaned against the boot of Gregory's Jaguar, intently staring at the screen of his iPhone. I pressed the button on the key, smirking as he startled when the alarm system chirped. He recovered quickly though. That was his nature. "It's progressing nicely," he said by way of a greeting, gesturing with his chin to the construction site.

"Ahead of schedule," I pointed out as I pressed the boot button. It sprang open and I set the hard hat next to my heels.

He chuckled beneath his breath before he muttered, "Casey's done well." I smirked as I pulled the steel toe boots off, one at a time, and swapped them for my heels. It sounded painful for him to admit that. God forbid _I_ should be right about anything. "Do you want me to say, 'Olivia, you were right'?"

I chuckled and shook my head as I replied, "No need." As I closed the boot, I turned to him. "I already know I'm right."

An irritated expression washed across his face as he chuckled and rubbed his mouth. I suddenly wonder if he was always annoyed by my presence and merely tolerated me because of Gregory, or if this was a recent development. What does it matter? It isn't as if I liked him either. I placed my purse on the boot and folded my arms against my chest. "Business or the children," I said plainly. "Pick your topic."

Ben glanced at the gravel before he replied, "Meg and I had dinner with Benjy and Evy the night before last." Something that resembled a truly genuine smile lit up his face as he continued, "I'm very happy they're dating. She's a lovely girl."

A silence stretched between us as my stomach turned. Of course Evy was lovely. Gregory and I raised her. _She_ wasn't the child of a serial killer. I suppose the polite response would be to compliment Benjy in return. But, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. My tolerance and acceptance of Benjy varied from day-to-day and hour-to-hour. "Is she safe with him?" I asked bluntly.

I wasn't prepared for the pained expression that overtook him. "Olivia," he sighed, my name choked in anguish, "Benjy is a good boy." I cocked my head as he continued, "He _is_. He- he's _nothing_ like Derek." I must have oozed skepticism because he ran his hand through his hair and stepped closer to me, his voice low and urgent. "I became his legal father, but…I failed him. After Maria moved to Monterey, I didn't see him as often as I would've liked. As often as I _should_ have." He lowered his eyes and continued, "I thought it would be easier. But, it slowly became harder to get to Monterey after Meg had Will. Then Lizzie and then Emma. It was harder to bring him into our family then I thought it would be."

I sighed and nodded, my mind racing. He and I weren't all that different. If Casey had entered our family thirty years ago, my story could've been eerily similar to Ben's. Back then, my marriage was on life support, my drinking out of control, and Gregory and I were openly betraying each other. Adding the news that Casey was Gregory's son then could've been a markedly _different_ experience than it was almost two years ago.

"But, Maria…Maria did a phenomenal job raising Benjy," he continued, meeting my eyes. "Everything good about Benjy is because of _her_."

With a reluctant nod, I cleared my throat and suggested, "You can't fault me for being concerned."

He nodded as he exhaled deeply. "Olivia, I swear to you-"

"But," I admitted softly, "I suppose I'm fonder of him than I let on."

His eyebrows jumped in surprise. "Really?" he asked, relief flooding his question.

"Evy needed an emergency appointment with her allergist. Benjy spent almost two hours in the waiting room with her so she wouldn't be alone." He smiled as I reached for my handbag and asked, "What mother would dislike _that_?" All of a sudden, the throbbing in my shoulder intensified. The doctor said this was to be expected. The fracture in my scapula had healed, but early arthritis in the joint was to be expected. The word had imprinted itself in my mind. _Arthritis_. The elderly get arthritis. Not me. Not _yet_ , anyway.

"Before you go," he said quickly, "there's something we should discuss."

I rolled my right shoulder and winced. "Can it wait?"

"I'm selling a portion of my Liberty shares to AJ."

My blood ran cold at his frank announcement. "Ben-"

"I don't need your approval to do sell some of my own shares," he retorted. My lips drew into a thin line, pain radiating from my shoulder, as he continued, "This isn't about any of us. It's about Liberty. I want Liberty to have the liquid assets AJ can provide. Plus, I want us to leverage the Deschanel name with the town's centennial coming up in two months."

I forced myself to blink as I asked, "You've seen what Casey is accomplishing with the MUMI project. We don't need AJ to help make it a success. It will do that on its own."

"We'll get more traction if AJ were the face of the project."

An image of Casey flashed to mind, the bashful smile he shared with me after he asked my permission to take Gregory's name. Ben might not believe in Casey, but I did. With a sigh of regret, I said, "I know I can't stop you from doing what you want with your shares. But, Ben, I'm telling you: you're going to regret doing this."

His eyes flashed defiantly and he squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. "You're going to make me regret it?"

"I won't have to," I murmured. "You'll regret it on your own." I turned away as the burning pain in my shoulder radiated throughout my whole body. "And," I announced as I opened the car's driver side door, "Casey is the face of the MUMI project. That's non-negotiable."

* * *

By the time, I reached Ocean Avenue, I was surprised by how calm I felt in the face of Ben's decision. He could do what he liked with his shares. If anything, it might benefit Casey and I. With AJ's buy-in reducing Ben's former status of equal shareholder to the minority, Casey's role as the majority shareholder was solidified. Despite the white-hot pain in my right shoulder, I felt a wicked smirk curl my mouth. Wouldn't it be something if I turned my shares over to Casey too?

As I mulled over _that_ thought, I slowed and turned into the driveway. Immediately, I felt a flush go through my body. A Rolls-Royce with darkly tinted windows idled in the part of the driveway that curved around to the front door. I pulled up to the closed garage door and parked, letting out a deep exhale as I turned off the car. When I glanced back at the intruding car, I saw the rear door open as AJ stepped out.

Of _course_.

The sunlight caught on my engagement ring, a sparkling flash at the corner of my vision. I looked down at it for a long moment, the fingers of my right hand brushing against the pear-shaped diamond. Gregory's voiced suddenly whispered from the back of my mind, remembering the way he encouraged me on my first day at the radio station. _Go on, Liv. You can do this._ His hands were on my shoulders then, his chest against my back as his lips brushed my right ear. We were standing in the hallway outside the conference room. I was terrified to go in. Terrified of facing the station's executives who now reported to me. Terrified of failing. Terrified of letting Gregory down.

But, I'm not terrified now.

I'm just _angry_.

With a grimace, I opened the door and stood tall. Ignoring the burning pain in my shoulder, I turned around as I heard AJ call my name. Slowly, I walked across the driveway to where AJ now leaned against the hood of his Rolls-Royce. "Isn't it remarkable to think this is the first time I've been to your home since I returned to Sunset Beach?" he asked, something of a smug grin on his face.

"Not really," I sighed, my hand clenched around the key ring. "I haven't invited you."

He chuckled and grinned wider as he folded his arms against his chest. "Hopefully, that will change," he suggested. A chill shivered down my spine as his sickeningly sweet tone swept over me. "Especially now that we'll be working together."

 _He played his hand early, Liv._ "So I've heard."

"Are you angry?"

Yes. About many things. But not about this. I shrugged and mused, "Ben can do what he wants with his shares."

With a chuckle beneath his breath, AJ removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his blazer's pocket. His blue eyes crinkled and suddenly, I remembered being 18 and seemingly head-over-heels in love with this man. As much as any 18-year-old can love anything. As much as I could be until Elaine and I realized AJ was dating _both_ of us. As much as I could be until I met Gregory.

"But, I hope Ben impressed upon you that this wasn't a personal decision. He wants what's best for Liberty. We both do."

A rueful smile came to my face. "I didn't realize Liberty meant so much to you."

With an easy smile, he stepped closer to me. With only a thin pane of air separating us, he admitted in a low voice, "It isn't _just_ Liberty." My stomach muscles tightened as he continued, "Perhaps you'll join me for dinner. Tomorrow night? We can discuss Liberty…and get reacquainted."

My throat was tight. All I could do was blink in reply. A dozen different emotions swirled through me as my mind raced. Only Pancake's happy bark could have pulled me back to this moment. "Hi, Nana!" I inhaled sharply as I heard Nicola call out and I looked away from AJ. "Pancake was crying at the front door. I think she heard you."

I nodded quickly and turned back to AJ. "I should go," I said softly. A moment later, Nicola and Pancake, straining against her least, stood next to me. "This is my granddaughter, Nicola," I explained, my left arm going around her.

As he opened his mouth to introduce himself, Pancake moved between us and growled, her teeth bared. "Pancake, no," Nicola murmured, crouching down low next to the spaniel. "Be a good girl. Where are your manners?"

With an embarrassed chuckle, AJ took a step back and put his sunglasses back on. "Actually, I should go. I'm late for meeting. An overseas call." I nodded blandly in reply as he said goodbye to Nicola. "Olivia, tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said softly. "Tomorrow."

"7?"

I nodded and watched as he turned and walked back to the Rolls-Royce. "Who was that, Nana?"

With a deep sigh, we turned back to the house. "Someone I knew a very long time ago. When I was Evy's age."

The little girl looked up at me, a quizzical expression on her face. "Did Poppop know him too? Were they friends?"

A sudden weight materialized in my gut and I glanced over my shoulder, watching as AJ's car left the driveway. With Pancake rubbing against my shins, I whispered, "No. They weren't. They weren't friends at all."

* * *

Morris' feet were heavy against the stones lining the patio and I looked up. "In awe of your reflection?"

"If my name was Narcissus," I murmured. The sun had long since set and a comfortable darkness had settled over the beach. The gentle garden lights gave off just enough illumination so I could make out the grave expression on Morris' face. "Thank you for coming over. I know the drive is-"

"Don't worry about it." His deep voice was low, matching the hush in my own voice. Pancake sat at my feet as he sat next to me on the bench. "After days of delays and another request for more money, I received all the police reports. Rebecca is translating it word-for-word as we speak."

I nodded as he fell silent. "But?"

He cleared his throat and angled his body, facing me. "I asked her to skim it and call out the important parts. The initial report from the responding team, the coroner's report – everything – lines up with what we were originally told."

I frowned and turned to him quickly, startling Pancake. "But, Morris, I heard them! There were other people there! I know what I heard!"

Slowly, carefully, he said, "I believe that you believe what you heard."

"But?" I asked, the pitch of my question causing Pancake to jump up on the bench between us. A moment later, her head was in my lap as she sighed.

"But…you were in shock. You were concussed. Perhaps you did hear voices, but – perhaps – it was Gianni Cappello talking to Gregory."

I turned away and folded my arms against my chest. I felt the glare on my face as I gazed angrily out at the refracted light dancing in the pool water. But, it wasn't the light I was seeing. I was seeing Gregory, unconscious and bleeding from a wound on his head in the driver seat. He was unconscious. He couldn't have spoken to Gianni Cappello.

"Olivia?"

It did happen that way, didn't it? It had to have. I felt all these memories so clearly, just as I felt all the other memories that made up the story of my life. I can't bear the alternative: that Gregory wasn't unconscious. That he did speak to Gianni Cappello. _Help my wife first_. That he was conscious when the car caught fire. That he was conscious as he was burned alive. The echo of Gregory's screams consumed me and I inhale, choking on a sob.

"Olivia?"

I shook my head, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I looked back at him. "I remember the voices. I remember Gregory was unconscious. I'm not wrong," I said, my voice cracking over a sob. "The children don't believe me, but they're real. They _happened_."

With a deep sigh, he leaned over his knees and rubbed his face. "Logic says, I should believe that you were concussed. That you're confused." I looked over at him, surprised, as he continued speaking into his palms. "But, Rebecca pulled the weather reports from that day. She checked several different local newspapers. They all confirmed it was a cold, but mild, winter day in Florence. It was a few degrees too warm for ice to be on the roadways."

I watched as he put his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up with a deep and prolonged sigh. "And, Gori isn't concerned about Gianni Cappello giving a fake name and disappearing. I was able to pay him off for the police reports, so he's easy to turn."

With a sniffle, I put my hand on Pancake's head and murmured, "If you could pay him off, why couldn't someone else pay him off too?"

He looked at me for a long moment before he said, "I believe you." A tingle went down my spine and I shivered. It felt like anticipation. It felt like standing with my father before he walked me down the aisle to Gregory. "-them saying you weren't supposed to be hurt," I heard Morris say as I returned to the moment. They. A mysterious and faceless They. "You were supposed to survive. Unharmed. But, Greg…Greg was _never_ supposed to make it out of that car."

"Why?" The next question, _Who?_ , was on my lips before a dozen memories flashed before my eyes. Ben inviting AJ to the shareholder's meeting. AJ inserting himself into Liberty. AJ lurking outside the house. Like a bolt of lightning, the events of the last few months married with my newly remembered memories of my last day in Florence with Gregory. I looked up, seeing the pensive expression on Morris' face. "Ben. AJ." His unsurprised expression gave way to my next question, " _Both_ of them?"

With a thoughtful sigh and a shrug, he rubbed his mouth before he said, "Maybe. Maybe one of them."

A sick feeling came over me, remembering the way AJ stood before Nicola and I earlier. The way my normally sweet and docile spaniel growled at him. "But, there's no proof," I heard him say. As a cold numbness invaded every ounce of me, I heard myself suggest in a clipped voice, "Then, we'll just have to find some. Won't we?"

He reached out and touched my arm, shocking me back to my senses. It was as if he knew, instantly, what I was thinking. What I wanted to do. But, he wouldn't change my mind. "You can't."

With a sad smile, I patted his hand and explained, "AJ invited me to dinner tomorrow. Seems like the perfect occasion to get closer to him."

He shook his head and swore beneath his breath. "Olivia, I can't let you do this. I _can't_."

But, he would help me. I knew he would. He was the only one who knew what I knew. Who knew that Gregory was murdered. Who knew that the crash wasn't an accident. I couldn't tell the children. The four of them were already convinced my grief over their father's death was causing me to break from reality. I couldn't tell them someone killed their father without having proof. Without being able to answer their innumerable questions. I couldn't put them through that. Not until there was proof. More than that, Gregory wouldn't want me to tell them until I was sure beyond a shadow of doubt and with proof.

Pancake's eyes turned up to me as I finally replied, "I wasn't asking for your permission, Morris."


	18. A Marvelous Night

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eighteen: "A Marvelous Night"

 _Morris_

This was a mistake.

A _huge_ fucking mistake.

Pancake brushed against his legs as he moved closer to Olivia, the small box tight in his hand. He glanced down, making sure he didn't inadvertently step on the dog. She sat Olivia's feet, watching him with bored amusement as he shifted the box anxiously from one hand to the other. "Olivia-"

Her groan segued to a long sigh. "Not again." Her blue eyes narrowed as she watched him closely. "We've been over this and over this."

He shook his head and looked down at the small box. "If Greg was here-"

"If Gregory was here, he'd be alive and _none_ of this would be necessary." Her voice was clear, not even a quiver. "I need to get close to AJ. We need to find out what he knows." Gently, she reached out and covered his hand with her slender one. "Besides," she continued softly, "it's _just_ dinner."

He sighed deeply and squeezed her hand before he began to open the box. "A huge fucking mistake," he muttered, glancing up in time to see the way she smirked.

"Your disagreement is noted," she said simply. "But, if _this_ helps you be more at ease, then fine."

" _This_ is more than just ease. This is peace of mind." He cleared his throat and said, "You'll need to open your shirt."

With a chuckle, she reached up and slowly began to unbutton her silk blouse. "All the way?"

Never in a million years did he imagine standing in front of Greg's wife before he replied softly, "Just to your bra."

She nodded, letting her blouse fall open as he pressed his hand to his left ear and spoke softly into the thin microphone. "This makes me _quite_ like Emma Peel, doesn't it?" he heard her ask and he glanced up, satisfied with the audio check. She continued to smirk, seemingly pleased with her own joke as she stood before him partially undressed.

He ignored the tremor in his hand as he reached out. His fingers brushed against the silk material and her right breast as he clipped the wireless microphone to her bra. "It's not too late to get you a leather catsuit."

She laughed softly, her breath tickling his hand. "That _might_ tip AJ off," she pointed out. She was calm. Calm with his hands against her chest. Calm in the face of a dinner with AJ Deschanel. Too calm. "Do I want to know where you got this from?"

"It was legally purchased," he said as he adjusted the microphone, "from an acquaintance who used to work for Mossad. If _that's_ what you're asking."

She shrugged. "I suppose."

He nodded. "You're all set." She nodded, nonchalantly redoing her buttons. As if what they were talking about – what they were _doing_ – was completely normal. "It's undetectable and the transmission range is more than adequate for our needs. Just make sure that AJ sits close by."

"Ha," she muttered. "I'm sure I won't need to go out of my way to make that happen." She slipped her blazer on, adjusting the collar. "Just like _I'm_ sure this is the right thing to do." She held up her hand, pre-emptively silencing his rebuttal. "Gregory's death wasn't an accident. AJ coming back when he did wasn't an accident. AJ owning a minority share of Gregory's company isn't an accident."

"AJ chasing after you again isn't an accident," he added.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise and she reached for his hand, wrapping hers around his wrist. "You think this is about me?" she asked urgently. He watched as her expression twisted and she stepped closer to him. "They've hated each other for years, but-"

"Greg was going to hate _anyone_ you dated before him. As for AJ-"

"Yes?"

He shrugged, giving her one final once-over. There was no way AJ could tell she was wired unless he copped a feel. "Never count out a spoiled rich boy who didn't get what he wanted," he pointed out.

She shook her head slightly and tucked her clutch beneath her arm. "Men and their egos," she muttered.

Her heels clicked against the floor as he and Pancake followed her out of her office. "I'll be in a car down the street from _Grenadine's_." Listening in. Making sure that nothing happened to her. He owed it to Greg. He owed it to her.

When they reached the foyer, she stopped abruptly and turned to him. "I trust you," she said softly, his chest tightening. She stepped closer to him, a whisper of a smile on her lips. "I always have, Morris."

He cleared his throat, embarrassed, as he looked down. The dog sat between their feet, her head back as she stared straight up at them. "Olivia-"

"Would you feel better if we had a code word?"

An absurd chuckle bubbled up from his throat until he realized she was serious. "Sure. Why not?"

Her phone chimed and he watched her pull it from the purse, swiping the screen. "AJ's turning into the driveway," she announced, looking back up at him.

An indescribable expression hardened her eyes and, in that moment, he saw the anger churning within her. "Pulled pork," he suggested.

Her face wrinkled. " _What?_ "

"Pulled pork. That's the code word."

Feet thundered down the stairs and he looked up as Evy rushed into the foyer, followed closely by Casey. "So, you're _really_ going to dinner with AJ Deschanel," he heard Evy say and he couldn't help but shiver at the disdain with which she said AJ's name. She couldn't have sounded more like Greg in that moment if she tried.

"We saw his car pull in," Casey offered as a means of explanation.

"For the _last_ time," Olivia said, barely keeping the exasperation out of her voice, "it's _just_ dinner."

"Mom, that guy is a complete-"

He watched as Casey's hand settled firmly on Evy's right shoulder. "He's a business partner," he said calmly, trying to smooth over the waters.

"And, a _minority_ one at that," Olivia pointed out as Evy shook off her older brother's hand, still glaring. "He needs to be reminded of his place in Liberty."

Evy rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Do what you want."

"Good night, darling," she called out as her youngest child stomped back up the stairs. He and Casey made eye contact, but the younger man only shrugged. She turned to Casey, flashing a brief smile, before she turned to him. The glint of anger still shone in her blue eyes as she whispered, "Pulled pork."

* * *

 _Olivia_

"This way, Mr. Deschanel." I forced a smile to my face as Hans, the maître d', led us through the dining room. AJ's hand lingered near my left elbow and I felt on display as we walked through the maze of tables. Suddenly, like when I was here with Bette a few weeks ago, I was bombarded with memories of Gregory and I walking this very path. It was always the restaurant we always went to when it was just the two of us. Coming here now with AJ was a mistake. A tremor went through my body and I panicked, wondering if he could feel it. I glanced over at him, but he was too busy nodding at people he recognized at other tables.

My left hand curled into a ball and my thumb rubbed against the bands of my engagement and wedding rings. This was for Gregory. My skin crawled as AJ's hand crept up my arm to rest between my shoulder blades. Near my now-healed right scapula, injured in the car crash he orchestrated. Him or Ben. Or _both_ of them. I was convinced of it. Despite my pleas to Morris for proof, I knew what I felt in my soul. No one had more to gain from Gregory's death than Ben or AJ.

My stomach flipped as I slipped into the chair Hans held out before I heard AJ say, " _Merci_ , Hans. I'll take it from here." Then his hands were on my shoulders for the briefest of moments, long enough for him to give them a gentle squeeze, before he pushed my chair to the table. This was for Gregory.

"Thank you," I murmured, wondering if he could hear the tension in my voice. Gregory would've been able to hear it.

AJ's charming smile, the one I adored when I was 18, beamed across the small table. I certainly hoped Morris' microphone would be able to hear everything we said. Despite its flimsy appearance, he assured me it was powerful. "I would be remiss if I didn't say just how pleased I am that you've joined me for dinner tonight."

I forced a bashful chuckle from my throat. "Are you really?"

"Oh, yes. You honor me with your presence. We will have a _marvelous_ night."

This was for Gregory. With a teasing smile, I leaned in and said softly, "Still a flatterer."

His rakish grin stretched all the way to his blue-gray eyes. "Well," he began quietly and I smoothed my silk blouse, less the thin fabric be in the way of the device clipped to my bra, "I've thought of you often these last few months."

"Oh?" I glanced down quickly, seeing my buttons undisturbed and the device still undetectable.

He sat back, a pleased expression on his face. "The last few months, the last forty years. Same difference."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention and I was suddenly very aware of the way my heart pounded in my chest. In my ears. In my soul. This was for Gregory. I didn't even realize I had giggled until I heard myself. "Oh, AJ, how I've _missed_ you. Truly." _Fuel his ego, Liv. Make him believe._

He beamed again before he reached for the wine list. "We'll start with champagne. They have a '98 Dom that would be perfect for-"

My left thumb continued to furiously rub the bands of my rings as I pointed out, "I don't drink." AJ's head flew up, but he said nothing as he slowly lowered the wine list. I leaned back into the plush chair as I continued, "Surely that gossip made its way to you since you've been back."

It was as if a blanket dropped over the table. Instantly, AJ's expression went neutral and I saw a glimmer of something I remembered seeing in Cole's eyes years ago when we stood in the grotto for the last time. It was the burn of anger. "Yes. Yes, of course." A heartbeat later, the wind seemingly shifted and something resembling solemnity replaced the anger. "I'm so sorry, Olivia. That was thoughtless of me."

I took the napkin and laid it in my lap, letting the heavy cloth hide the way my hands trembled. "It's perfectly fine," I heard myself say and I marveled at how even my tone was. "Don't let me stop you. Cheers."

But, he shook his head as he leaned in, seemingly chastising himself. "No, it isn't. I apologize."

His mouth closed abruptly as if he was censoring his next thought. "AJ?"

His eyes lowered and I sat up, listening as he explained, "I suppose I'm guilty of remembering us how we were years ago." Slowly, he looked up, meeting my eyes. "The parties, flute after flute of champagne, the dancing…" A smirk appeared on his lips as I watched him smooth his tie, his fingers dancing over his ostentatious diamond tie pin. "The long and _sleepless_ nights.

This was for Gregory. With a soft chuckle, I suggested with a shrug, "The irreplaceable advantages of youth." My youngest child's disgusted expression suddenly came to mind, the way she stormed from the foyer. _So, you're really going to dinner with AJ Deschanel_. Someday, she'd understand why I was doing this. They _all_ would.

He shook his head slightly, disagreeing. "It wasn't just youth," he suggested. "You were…a goddess. An intoxicating and bewitching goddess."

I couldn't help it. "A goddess?" I laughed, truly amused. "You knew an 18-year-old _girl_. A bloody _child_. Someone who had _barely_ begun to live." I could feel a trickle of sweat run down my spine as I twisted my hands in my lap. The diamond of my engagement ring dug into my palm as I watched a condescending expression bloom on AJ's face. Perhaps he couldn't help it either.

"I'm also guilty of remembering _you_ how you were years ago… _before_ Gregory turned you into an alcoholic."

As a flush of white-hot anger consumed me, I watched his condescension gave way to smugness. I leaned forward, feeling the glare etched into my expression as I hissed, "You know _nothing_ about my marriage. Nothing." Did he realize he had crossed a line? That his French charm would only get him so far? "Gregory and I were married for nearly 45 years. It wasn't perfect. We had difficult times. But, it was our life. _Ours_." My voice shook with ire as I snapped, "I wouldn't trade a single moment of those years for _anything_."

"Olivia-" he began, his face suddenly a mask of surprise as I stood abruptly and reached for my clutch.

"Enjoy your dinner," I shot back. I ignored the way he called my name, drawing the attention of the other tables as I walked through the restaurant. "I'm leaving, Morris."

* * *

 _Morris_

He swerved into the valet lane, slammed on the brakes, and threw the car into Park. The timing was perfect. Olivia stormed through the stained-glass doors and he pressed the button, rolling down the front passenger window. "Olivia!" he called out and her head whipped up around. The expression on her face was unsurprising. She was furious. He pulled out the ear piece and dropped it into the empty cup holder as she yanked open the door and threw her purse in. He didn't even need her to announce that she was leaving. When he heard the edge in her voice as she snapped that AJ knew nothing about her marriage, he knew AJ wouldn't even have the chance to order them a starter.

"Let's go," she hissed as she slammed the door shut. She slipped her arms from the blazer and he saw the dark sweat stains discoloring her silk blouse. He should've listened to his gut. This was a mistake. She wasn't ready for this.

"Where to?" he asked he asked as he shifted into Drive. The restaurant shrank from view as he pulled onto the street and into the evening traffic.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hands to her face and said nothing. The only sound in the car was her ragged breathing, muffled from behind her palms. "It's alright, Olivia," he began softly. "He knew how to push-"

"It was a _disaster_ , Morris!" she hissed as she turned to him, her eyebrows bent into a frown. "A _bloody_ disaster! I ruined everything before it even started!"

"No," he replied firmly. "He knew how to get a rise out of you." He couldn't prove it, but he was convinced everything AJ said to her was planned. It had a purpose. Some kind of purpose.

Her hands fell into her lap as she leaned back into the leather seat. "It's over, Morris. I ruined it."

"You ruined nothing." He slowed to a stop at the red light and looked at her. Her face and neck were flushed. The anger from just a moment ago was quickly shifting into despair. He reached out, covering her hands with his right one. "Nothing. Ok?" She only rolled her eyes, disbelieving. "You want me to take you home?" he asked.

She groaned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Casey and Evy – mostly _Evy_ – will have no less than a dozen questions about why I'm home so early." The pitch of her voice bottomed out as she slowly turned her head to him. "Anywhere but the house," she muttered.

* * *

 _Olivia_

Something jostled me awake and I blinked my eyes open as I gasped. I didn't even remember falling asleep. "Sorry about that," I heard Morris say on my left. "I've been meaning to get that portion of the driveway re-paved, but I've gotten used to the bump."

"Where are we?" I asked, hearing the sleep clinging to my question as I pushed my blazer aside. I glanced at the digital clock on the center console and saw it was nearly two hours from when I stormed out of _Grenadine's_.

"The hills of Laguna Niguel." The car came to a stop in front of a modern home that so camouflaged by the surrounding wilderness it looked like a hidden oasis. "My home."

I gaped at the house and said nothing. Since he'd reentered my life, I'd done _nothing_ to inquire about his life. Nothing. I'd only taken and insisted. "Oh, Morris," I sighed, turning to him. Ashamed. "I'm a horrible friend. I've never asked you _anything_ about your move back. About your home. If you were settled in."

He chuckled and pressed the button to unlock the car doors. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Come on. I'll put up a pot and give you the grand tour."

Coffee did sound heavenly as I climbed out of the car, clutching my blazer and purse. As I followed him through the darkness, I glanced around. "Neighbors? It seems so quiet."

"It _is_ quiet." He glanced over his shoulder as he stopped at the front door and said, "It's quiet because there are no neighbors. It's the only house on top of the hill." I followed him into the foyer and blinked again as he turned the lights on. "House was built in the 70s by a college professor. One of his kids inherited the property, but he lost it when he went upstate on fraud charges. I'm only the third owner."

I nodded as I wandered through the living room, my eyes dancing from the massive wood beams above to the floor-to-ceiling windows. "It's beautiful, Morris."

"Watch this," I heard him say a moment before the lights went out. I gasped, seeing the lights from the city glittering at the base of the hills as he chuckled. The black void beyond the lights could only be the Pacific Ocean. "I know. Takes my damn breath away every morning." A moment later, he was at my side as we looked through the window together. "Not bad for a kid from Bed-Stuy, huh?"

I felt the smile on my face as I spoke. "Gregory said something similar years ago when we bought the house. Living in a house on the beach with an inground pool was an accomplishment for him after growing up in an apartment block."

A moment of silence went by before he said, "Why don't you go sit on the terrace? I'll have the coffee ready in no time." His hand rested between my shoulder blades as he led me through the living room. "Milk, but no sugar, right?"

I nodded and draped my blazer over the cushioned lounge chair. I stepped out of my heels before I sat down, my purse in my lap. Birdsong and the wind rustling through the trees consoled me as I lay back and rested my hand over my heart. Instantly, AJ's condescending tone came back to me. The way his accusations discolored the seemingly kind expression on his face. He was a liar. He always had been. I sighed deeply and looked up at the dark night sky. With the house lights off and the isolation from the top of the hill, the stars shone brightly in the sky. "Oh, Gregory," I sighed into the night. "I blew it."

But, the only reply I heard was music playing from inside the house and the sounds of Morris making coffee in the kitchen. With another deep sigh, I reached into my blouse and pulled the thin microphone from my bra. The silk was stiff, forever ruined after the perspiration stains dried. My right hand closed into a fist around the device as I whispered to myself, "Blew it."

The bright stars winked back at me, saying nothing. "I'm angry, Gregory," I continued. "So very _angry_. I have been for months." My throat tightened and I narrowed my eyes. It was true. I didn't want _this_. This painful ache in my chest where a Gregory-sized hole had taken up residence. This agonizing emptiness that threatened to consume me entirely. This blinding fury that churned deep in my soul.

"You hungry?" Morris' question cut through my silent pity and I looked up, blinking. "You didn't end up eating anything at _Grenadine's_."

"No," I murmured as he held out my coffee. I placed the microphone onto my purse before I wrapped both of my hands around the heavy ceramic mug. He sat on the chair next to mine, exhaling deeply as he sank into the cushion. I glanced at him, seeing the deep thought seared into his expression. I raised the mug to my mouth and sipped tentatively as we sat together.

I needed to try again with AJ. I knew it. Morris knew it, however reluctantly would admit it. As a current of new anger went through me, I heard him clear his throat and say, "You know, sometimes I sit out here with a cigar and ask myself why I didn't reach out Greg when I moved back." Slowly, I looked over as he continued, "I'd been back almost six months when he died."

"When you ask yourself that, do you find an answer?"

He scoffed and took a sip of his coffee. "The answer is that I was a chicken shit," he growled and I heard the reproach in his answer. "I didn't want to find out that more than thirty years had gone by and he still hadn't forgiven me." I blushed, ashamed, as he concluded, "I guess it was easier to pretend we were still friends, but had just lost touch."

I said his name softly and he slowly turned to me. "He had nothing to forgive you for," I whispered and I watched his face fall. "And, he knew that. He just…well, apologies were never easy for him." He cleared his throat deeply and looked down, the shadows concealing his expression. "I know he would've welcomed you back into his life." Despite Gregory's disgust of the predictable, I _know_ that's what he would've done.

"Well, like I said," he replied, his voice tight, "that's what I think about when I'm out here with a cigar."

He wouldn't meet my eyes as the sound of the rustling leaves replaced our hushed voices. Was this what living alone looked like? Endless nights of aimlessly wondering _What if?_ with only the dog for company? I hadn't lived alone since Gregory died. But, things were changing. Casey and his family were moving out in less than three weeks once their new house was done. Evy was scheduled to return to university in two months. Soon enough, it would just be me. Wandering the halls of a large and empty home. "Do you like living alone?" I murmured.

He shrugged. "I don't mind it. Benefits of being a lifelong loner, I suppose."

I've never been a loner. Other than the brief time I lived by myself in that awful room on the east side of town, I'd lived with either my parents or Gregory. And, for Morris' claims of not minding the solitude, he certainly sounded less than thrilled with the prospect. "But, there's been no one since you and Valerie divorced?"

 _I've got to hide  
What's killing me inside  
Let the music play  
I just want to dance the night away_

Finally, his eyes met mine again and I saw the mix of sadness and regret churning in his expression. Slowly, he shook his head as he sat his coffee mug on the small table between our chairs. "Couldn't do it," he sighed as rubbed his face and leaned back into the lounge chair. "I thought I was going to be married to Val for the rest of my life. After everything we went through with her family, that was the plan."

"Because she was white?" I asked softly and he nodded. He and Valerie were already married by the time Gregory introduced me to them. But, he had told me about the resistance Valerie's family put up when she started dating Morris. A moment later, I listened as he continued, "But, really…I just couldn't imagine anyone else but Val as my wife. Still can't. After our life together, and our daughter, I was shell-shocked when she filed for divorce. Devastated when she remarried two years later."

"What happened?" I asked, truly curious. When I knew them, Valerie and Morris seemed to have as strong a marriage as Gregory and I did. They always seemed happy. Always seemed in love.

He was quiet for a long moment and I set my mug aside too as I watched him. "We just…grew apart." His voice was thick as he looked back at me. "The things she used to love about me became the things she hated."

I reached out and covered his hand with my left one, unable to say anything in the face of that painful honesty. We were just two broken, devastated, and angry people. Still reeling from the twists of fate we were cursed with living through.

* * *

 _Morris_

"You sure you won't miss running the radio station?"

"God no." Her reply was so instantaneous that he knew it to be truth. He listened as her voice dropped and she continued, "I would've sold it eventually. Gregory and I planned to start spending more time in Tuscany. I couldn't oversee day-to-day operations from Italy." She turned onto her left side to face him, her blazer draped over her torso like a blanket. "Evy teased we were going to become long distance parents to her."

He chuckled. "She's a spitfire, that one." He turned his head towards her just in time to see the way she stifled a yawn. He swore as he sat up, looking down at his watch. It was past midnight. "It's late," he muttered. "I should get you back to Sunset Beach."

"Morris," she sighed as she sat up, drawing the blazer around her shoulders, "don't be silly. It'll take at least an hour to get there and then another hour to drive yourself back." She glanced back at the house as she asked, "Do you have a guest room?"

He shook his head even as he explained, "It's only got a barely standing futon in there. It's where I put my granddaughters when they've come to visit. But, it's awful and I wouldn't make you sleep on it." A half-second went by before he heard himself say, "Take my bed. It'll just take me a second to put on fresh sheets."

"But, where will you sleep?" she asked as she stood. "You said the futon was awful."

He grabbed their empty coffee mugs and led her into the house. "And, it is. That's why I'll sleep on the sofa instead."

"Oh, Morris. Are you sure?"

"Sure that I'll take the sofa before you? Absolutely." A tired smile graced her face as he left the mugs in the kitchen sink. "Why don't you text Evy and Casey while I change the sheets?"

She scoffed as she reached into her purse for her phone. "They'll think I'm spending the night with AJ," she mused.

He cleared his throat and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded against his chest. "You don't want them to think that," he gently pointed out. "I understand why you won't tell them yet about what we suspect about the car crash. But, you can't want them to be angry with you." Because that's the only thing that will happen if they – especially Evy – think you're shacking up with AJ for the night.

With a yawn, she shrugged and swiped her phone's screen. "I suppose I can just say I went to Bette's after dinner and am staying there." She glanced back at him and said softly, "If I tell them I'm with you, they'll wonder how I ended up here."

He nodded. "While you do that, I'll get those clean sheets on the bed. Bedroom and bathroom are down this hall." She nodded absentmindedly, her hip jutted against the counter as she gazed down at her phone. Her brow was furrowed and she bit the corner of her lip as she began to tap out a text message.

With a deep exhale into his hands, he rubbed his face as he walked down the hall. This was not how this night was supposed to end. With a furious tug, he pulled the comforter back and then ripped the sheets from the bed. In fact, _nothing_ this evening had gone to plan. As he tucked clean sheets around the mattress, he realized Olivia would need something to sleep in too. "Well, that's done," he heard her say from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing her in the doorway.

"Pajama party at Bette's?" he asked, shaking the pillow from its pillowcase.

She chuckled and walked into the bedroom, picking up the framed photo of his granddaughters on the triple dresser. "The little one looks like Maya when she was this age."

"I thought so too. Thank God they take after Maya and not the stooge she married."

She looked up, exhausted but amused. "Gregory might have said something similar once, but he ended up liking Caity's husband."

He tossed the pillow back onto the bed and opened a drawer. "That must've made things easy for her."

"Who are you kidding? It made things easy for _Gregory_."

He laughed as he took out a faded Cornell t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. "You can sleep in these," he said, holding them out.

She smiled and pointed out, "I'm considerably shorter and smaller than you."

"So, you'll swim in them. But, it beats sleeping in your clothes."

With a tired and fading smile on her face, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. A jolt when through him as she said softly, "Thank you Morris."

"For what?" he asked.

"For being my friend," she replied.

Her hand brushed his as she took the clothes from him and turned away. He stood still, frozen to stone, as she walked across the hall to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Frozen to stone, but still feeling her lips against his cheek

* * *

 _A/N: Olivia and Morris listen to "Let the Music Play" (written by Barry White)._


	19. Heartstrings That Play Soft and Low

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Nineteen: "Heartstrings That Play Soft and Low"

* * *

 _A/N: This chapter contains veiled references to my earlier story, "Perigee"._

* * *

 _Morris_

"Thank you for driving me."

He chuckled and quickly glanced over. "What was I supposed to do? Let you _walk_ back to Sunset Beach?"

She smiled and reached for the paper cup in the center console. "I could've called the car service Liberty uses."

"Well. Then, you're welcome for saving you some money."

"My mother always said saving money is important," she said into the cup before she took a sip of coffee. She leaned back into the passenger seat and sighed deeply.

He cleared his throat as the morning sunlight glared against the hood of the car. "That sounded like a deep thought," he pointed out.

"My phone died. You didn't have an iPhone charger-"

"That's because Apple is overrated and overpriced."

"-and so, I was wondering if AJ tried to call."

He sighed deeply, hearing the frustration in her voice. "I thought you were done beating yourself up over last night?"

Her voice dropped as she murmured, "I feel as if I let Gregory down."

"Olivia," he said seriously, "I can't let you think that. I just _can't_." _Thank you, Morris. For being my friend._ He glanced over quickly, seeing the fullness of the sorrow in her expression. "You didn't hear what I heard. AJ _intentionally_ provoked you." Her eyes flickered to his and he forced himself to look back at the road. _For being my friend._ The tired smile on her face. The way her lips felt against his cheek. "You _didn't_ let Gregory down. But, you acted like the woman who loved him for the entirety of her adult life."

"What are you saying?"

"If you're still intent on doing this-"

"I am."

"-then you need to let AJ think he's right."

The leather hissed as she fully turned her body to him. "What are you _saying_?" she repeated as the pitch of her voice rose.

"Lie," he whispered, staring straight out at the freeway. She inhaled sharply as he continued, "Tell AJ he was right to say what he did about Greg. Say that he bullied you. Say that he hurt you. Say he turned you into an alcoholic."

"Are you insane, Morris?" she hissed.

"No," he replied flatly. "But, if what we suspect about AJ is true, then _he_ is. Play into his spoiled rich boy ego and make him think he was right. It's the quickest way for you to make him forget about last night."

Her angry exhale was the only reply as she turned away from him. The sudden silence invaded the car like a third passenger and he resisted the urge to turn to her. He swallowed past the distaste of saying those things about Greg. But, she'd realize he was right. The lie was the only way she could make AJ believe. He reached out, tapping the entertainment center's touchscreen to turn on the radio. Anything to fill the uncomfortable silence.

 _Heartstrings that play soft and low_

Olivia's hand shot out, tapping the screen to turn the radio off. "Not _this_ song," she snapped.

Anything except _that_ song.

* * *

 _Evy_

She sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, her knees drawn close to her chest. The early morning silence became the house, filling it the same way the pre-dawn light gave way to warm sunshine. They were completely alone. Casey, Diana, and the kids left before dawn for the long drive to Tahoe. They were spending a week at the cabin. It was probably for the best they weren't here now. "Here," she heard Benjy say and she looked up as he stepped over Pancake, holding out a mug.

With a sigh, she took the offering, even as she murmured, "You really think caffeine is the best thing for me right now?"

He shrugged as he sat next to her with his own mug and turned to face her. " _Or_ , is it decaf?"

"Eww." She raised the mug to her lips and sipped tentatively as he snickered into his own coffee. A moment later, she felt his left hand cover her bare feet and she couldn't help the smile that curled her lips. Despite everything, she realized, as she reached out and slipped her hand into his. "I grew up different than Cait and Sean," she whispered. "They have stories and stories and stories of all the fights they remember Mom and Dad having when they were kids." She squeezed his hand as she continued, "But, I only remember one."

"Just one?" he scoffed.

Her smiled flattened as she heard the implication in his question. She didn't blame him. After all, a _huge_ chunk of her parent's marriage was infamously – and publicly – awful. The woman challenging Dad's estate was only the latest reminder of the disaster they used to be. But, those weren't the people who raised her. "Be real: my parents weren't perfect. I mean, they disagreed on a ton of things all the time. But, fights? Fights _weren't_ the norm when I was a kid."

"Except for one?"

She nodded. "I was supposed to go to my room, but I hid at the top of the stairs and listened. I was _terrified_. Dad was so angry at Mom. I'd never seen him like that before. But, also…" She took another sip of coffee, grateful for the way Benjy sat quietly and waited for her. "I'd never seen them fight like that before," she finally said. "I thought they might get a divorce…and that made me furious." Her eyes narrowed as a soft chuckle rose in throat. "I told Mom – well, shouted at her – that if she and Dad got a divorce, I'd never speak to them for the rest of my life."

Benjy's amused smile made his eyes crinkle. "Seems like a fair threat," he said softly, "for a…"

"Ten-year-old," she answered. "I was ten." Instantly, she remembered the way she stomped up the stairs and down the hall, her heart racing. The horribly painful ache that spread from her stomach to her chest to her throat. It was the same pain she felt now. Since early this morning. "They made up later that night. It was like it never happened." She looked up as Benjy's hand cupped her calf and she continued, "After, Mom whispered something in my ear. She said that Dad was stuck with her. That they wouldn't do well without each other."

"Evy…"

Their eyes met as she whispered, "I guess she's doing well now though?"

He took her mug and set it aside before he leaned in. "Take a deep breath. You don't mean that. I know you don't."

With a gentle shove, she pushed him away and stood. Pancake raised her head, following her with a silent gaze as she folded her arms tightly across my chest. "Don't tell me what to feel!" she snapped.

The spaniel jumped to attention and trotted away as Benjy stood too. "Evy, I'm not. I just mean…I know what it feels like when your parents keep secrets from you. When you know there's things they're not telling you." She huffed a sigh and started to turn away when he reached out and grabbed her hand. "I know how shitty that feels. When you know you haven't been told the truth. When you know there are things your father isn't telling you. When your mother looks you in the eye and lies." She felt him squeeze her hand as he whispered, "There are secrets in my family that follow me like shadows. And, we don't talk about it. Ever. But, I know they're there. And," he gasped, his voice taut, "I'm the one who has to live with that sick feeling. Not _them_."

"Someone is sick?"

She looked up sharply as Mom's question consumed her. Pancake stood at Mom's side, happily wagging her tail as she gazed up at her. Instantly, her chest tightened as the pressure skyrocketed through her. Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out Benjy's reply. "Wait in the car for me, Benjy," she muttered. "I'm not staying here." She ignored the long look Mom exchanged with Benjy as he walked past her and slipped out the front door.

Her hands clenched into tight fists Mom neared her. Limp hair. No makeup. Wrinkled clothing. An internal scream consumed her, flushing through her veins, as she spat out, "How did you get home from Aunt Bette's?"

Mom dropped her purse onto the armchair as she replied, "Bette dropped me off."

"Really?" she asked as she felt herself glare. Her words felt heavy, taking up space in the living room the way Dad's presence would've. "Because when I went over to her house an hour ago – because I _knew_ you'd need a ride home – not only did I wake her up, but she said you weren't there." Mom froze as her expression turned. As the blood dramatically drained from her face, she hissed, "Aunt Bette said you hadn't been there at all. We both tried calling your cell, but it kept going straight to voicemail. We texted, but you didn't reply." Mom's eyes narrowed as she asked, "Were you busy, Mom? Did you not want to be interrupted?"

"Evy-"

"DON'T YOU DARE 'EVY' ME!" she screamed. "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!" Her throat swelled and she was suddenly nauseous as Mom moved closer. Instantly, she backed away, afraid of the blinding rage coursing through her.

"Darling, whatever you're thinking-"

"Oh, you already _know_ what I'm thinking! You knew it last night when you lied about where you were! What you were doing! WHO YOU WERE WITH!" She shook her head angrily as she moved around the living room, letting the sofa separate her and Mom. "Jesus, Mom! You and AJ Deschanel!"

"Evelyn Frances-"

"STOP ACTING AS IF I'M THE ONE WHO DID SOMETHING WRONG!" She pointed accusingly at Mom, whose head went back as if her words smacked her. "STOP ACTING AS IF I'M THE ONE WHO BETRAYED DAD!"

Mom's shoulders caved in and, a moment later, she sank into the armchair. "Enough," she murmured, raising her hands to her face. Pancake moved next to Mom, resting her head on her thigh.

She grabbed her purse, gripping the strap tight in her hand. "Need to call AJ? Let him know you survived the walk of shame?"

Mom whipped around, her eyes narrowed. "Get out," she hissed. "Get out of my sight!"

"Gladly!" she shouted as she stomped over to the front door. "Send AJ my regards…I mean, MY REGRETS!"

* * *

 _Olivia_

With the memory of the way the front door slammed shut when Evy stormed out, I gently closed the door to my office. Pancake followed me to the desk as I tightened the belt of Gregory's robe. It always was too large for me. With a sigh, I sat in the chair behind my desk, plugged my dead phone into the charger, and leaned back. _Stop acting as if I'm the one who betrayed Dad!_ I closed my eyes, remembering the way my youngest child bellowed at me. Her brown eyes shone, her neck flushed. God, she looked and acted so much like Gregory when she was furious.

A headache pounded in my skull and I slowly opened my eyes, gazing up at the ceiling. After the failed dinner with AJ, it didn't seem fair that I still had to deal with an upset child. Not that I wanted Evy to be upset with me, but now, she was upset with me _and_ I had gotten nowhere with AJ. "It was all for nothing, Gregory," I murmured.

A moment later, I felt the dog's head in my lap and I reached out, petting her. Not even her unconditional love nor a shower could make me forget the way Evy looked at me. The way she shouted. The disgust had radiated from her like beams from the sun. The anger that burned in her eyes. It was the most furious Evy had ever been with me in her entire life.

With a sigh, I sat up and opened my laptop. The screen came to life and I glanced over at my iPhone. It wasn't even charged to one percent yet. Suddenly, I wasn't looking forward to when it was charged enough to turn on. Angry text and voice messages from Evy were not what I wanted to see and hear. Not after this morning.

I clicked the email icon and watched my inboxes open, eager for the momentary distraction they'd provide. An email from earlier this morning immediately caught my eye. I clicked on it, grateful that Sofia was fluent in English. My eyes skimmed through the message, a wistful smile coming to my face. The sellers accepted my response to their counter offer. The villa in Impruneta, just outside of Florence, was now mine.

 _Look. It's like a painting._

 _It's the view you were waiting for._

With a sharp exhale, I blinked my eyes, willing away the tears. I could still feel the way Gregory's hand felt against the back of my neck. The way it felt when I hugged him. When we stood together in the salon, our arms around each other. I tapped out a quick reply, expressing my desire to have the closing paperwork faxed to the lawyers here as soon as possible so I could sign them. I glanced down at Pancake and scratched behind her ears as I murmured, "We'll need to teach you some commands in Italian. _Come si dice_ 'sit'?" She merely looked at me as her mouth parted in a smile, her tail wagging furiously. " _Brava ragazza_ ," I whispered with one final scratch before I turned back to the laptop.

As I did, my eyes drifted to the number next to the icon for my Liberty email. One unread email. A chill went through me as I opened the inbox and saw AJ's name in the Sender field. The Subject line was simple. _Please call me, Olivia._ I opened the email and saw just a phone number in the body of the message. I didn't even think. Of course I reached for the desk phone and dialed the number he gave me. My heart began to pound as I listened to the aimless ring of the line. As I reached down to power on my cell phone, I heard the ringing abruptly stop before I heard AJ's voice. "Hello, AJ," I said softly as I gripped the handset tightly.

"Olivia. Thank you for calling. I tried your cell phone several times last night."

I leaned back in the chair and rested my free hand on Pancake's head. "It died and I couldn't find the charger." I looked down at the dog and rolled my eyes. It wasn't as if AJ deserved an honest reply from me.

He sighed deeply. "Olivia, how can I begin to apologize for last night?" I said nothing, the silence becoming us, as I continued to hold Pancake's gaze. "I-I crossed a line. I was cruel. And, I'm deeply and sincerely sorry for everything I said."

 _Lie. Tell AJ he was right to say what he did about Greg. Say that he bullied you. Say that he hurt you. Say he turned you into an alcoholic._

I closed my eyes as bile rose in my throat. I couldn't do it. I couldn't say it aloud. "AJ…"

"It's just that," he began, his words rushed, "I have such _fond_ memories of our time together. Of how you were. How _we_ were. And, last night- last night you were unhappy and I caused it." There was a moment of silence before I heard him say, "I'd very much like the chance to make it up to you."

I bit back a chuckle and asked, "A repeat performance?"

"Not quite," he replied with a chuckle. "Something different. Less pressure for you. Tickets for tomorrow night's performance of _Tosca_ in Los Angeles. I remembered how much you enjoyed the opera."

I sat up quickly, startling Pancake, as my blood ran cold. My lips parted, but I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak.

"Olivia? Olivia? Are you there?"

I nodded, not that he could see. "Y-yes," I stammered, pressing my hand to my mouth. The last time I'd been so quickly overcome with nausea was when I was pregnant with Sean. I didn't miss the sensation. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt his anticipation of my reply across the line. "Yes. I-I'm just touched you remembered something like that after all this time," I lied. "Truly touched."

He chuckled softly and I could hear how pleased he was. "You'd be surprised how much I remember about you."

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I resisted the urge to scream. "You always were full of surprises," I forced myself to say as I reached for my cell phone and dismissed all the missed call and text notifications. My hands trembled as I found Morris' message history and typed out a message. _Pulled pork._

"Shall I pick you up tomorrow night? The performance starts at eight."

I clutched the iPhone with both hands, balancing my desk phone between my head and left shoulder. "Can I get back to you?" I asked, marveling at how casual I could sound. "Believe it or not, it'll depend on what I wear tomorrow night."

He laughed and I could almost imagine the twinkle in his eyes. It sickened me. "Of course. No pressure, remember? Call me when you've decided."

"I will. Good bye, AJ." His voice fell away as I moved the phone away from my ear and hung up. My phone chimed and I saw Morris' reply. _On my way. Be there in 20._ I tossed the phone onto the desk and leaned back in the chair. The sickening dizziness and nausea consumed me as I gasped aloud. A moment later, Pancake jumped into my lap. Her warm body curled against my chest and I lowered my face to her head, clutching her to me.

* * *

 _Caitlin_

"Mommy, when will Baby Rory be able to play hide-and-seek with me?"

Blake leaned over the arm of the sofa, watching as she breastfed the baby. "Oh, I think it will be awhile, baby doll. She's younger than Tanner and he can't play with you, Delilah, or Hope yet." She glanced up in time to see her daughter's face screw up in a frown. "But, there's lots of other fun ways you can play with your little sister. She just can't do everything that you can yet."

"But, Mommy," she said with an exaggerated sigh, "but I want to play with Baby Rory _now_!"

Biting back a smile, she reached out and gently brushed the wisps of blonde hair from her older daughter's face. "You know, Mikey likes playing hide-and-seek with you."

She stood tall and put her hands on her hips. "Well, _I_ don't like playing with _him_ because he can climb the big trees in the backyard to hide and I can't climb that high to tag him!"

Rory stilled at her breast and she sighed, grateful that she was done feeding. "Tell you what," she said as she buttoned up her shirt and lifted the baby to her shoulder. "Just for today only, you can hide in the vineyard." She smiled as Blake's eyes lit up and she clapped her hands. "But, _just_ for today. Do you understand, sweetie?" All their children had been raised to understand the sprawling vineyards behind their hillside home was where their father and his employees worked. It was not a place for them to play.

"Oh, yes, Mommy! Just for today! I promise!" The little girl leaned back over the arm of the sofa, her lips pursed expectantly.

"Good girl," she said as she leaned forward and kissed her. "Now, go find Mikey. Be back for lunch, ok?"

"I will, Mommy! I will!"

She leaned back into the plush sofa as her daughter ran from the living room, calling for her older brother. Her eyes closed as the home settled into silence as she rubbed her daughter's back. If Rory took a nap right now, she might be able to take one too. Greg was at soccer practice. Charlie was working in his office before it was time to go back for Greg. Mikey and Blake were occupied with hide-and-seek. No one would need her for at least an hour. With a grateful smile, she sighed happily. Her daughter's breathing tickled the right side of her neck and, as always, her heart skipped. Nothing had filled her heart the way this quiet time with her four children did. Her babies needed her in a way they _never_ needed Charlie. And now, with her last baby snug in her arms, she was more protective of this time than ever before. After all, it would be no time at all before Rory was one and she was unsteadily toddling after her older sister and older brothers.

Her iPhone rang and she reluctantly opened her eyes. "Rory, we are _not_ FaceTime ready," she grumbled beneath her breath as she held up her phone and squinted at the screen. Evy. She frowned, glancing down at Rory's half-closed eyes. Her younger sister hadn't FaceTimed her in months. The kids, definitely. Evy loved them and relished in her role as aunt extraordinaire. But, not her. With a sigh, she swiped the screen and held out her phone. "Hi."

The lighting was poor, but she could make out her younger sister. "Hi. Is Rory awake?"

She shook her head slightly and softly explained, "I just fed her. She usually goes down for a nap after."

"Oh. Do you need to call me back once she's in her crib?"

She shook her head. "She could sleep through an earthquake," she explained. "I mean, with all the noise Greg, Mikey, and Blake make, she needed to learn to adapt." Her sister moved and the light changed, allowing her to see her fully. "Where are you?"

"Benjy's." Her response was flat and all she could do was nod.

"Mom said he was growing on her," she said simply, even as she wondered why her sister was FaceTiming her. Before Daddy died, she wouldn't have wondered. They had spoken every day back then, even with the time zone differences in New York and Sonoma. But now…

"Who cares what Mom thinks?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. Evy's snarky reply caught her attention. "Evy, what happened?" she asked, getting straight to the point. A moment later, she watched as her younger sister's expression crumbled and she began to cry. Not just cry, but deep and belly-aching sobs. "Evy? Is Mom ok? Evy?"

"Mom's _fine_. She's living her best life," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Her stomach muscles tensed as she listened to her sister's crying lessen and eventually subside. "What happened?" She watched Evy's face turn and she couldn't help but shiver at the angry expression. "Did you have a fight?" she asked, grasping at straws. But, that was ridiculous. Mom and Evy never fought. _Ever_.

"Not really. Sort of. Yes." She sighed deeply and stared straight into the camera. "Cait, I don't know what to do. You're the only person I can talk to about this. Casey and Sean would be _so_ uncomfortable."

"But, Mom's ok?" she asked, worried.

Evy rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes. I already said she was."

"Sorry, I-" She briefly closed her eyes and, when she reopened them, she saw Evy holding her head in her hands. "Talk to me, Evy. What happened? Why are you at Benjy's?"

Her sister sighed in the silence that stretched between them and she slowly looked up. "I yelled at Mom. I'm angry at her."

"What happened?"

"Mom…Mom had dinner with AJ Deschanel last night."

She felt herself frown as she inhaled sharply. "AJ Deschanel?" she repeated incredulously.

"The one and only," she replied flatly. "Did Mom tell you Ben sold him some of his Liberty shares?"

"What?" she sat up and propped the phone against the glass bowl on the coffee table so she could cradle Rory in her arms. "AJ owns a piece of Liberty?"

She nodded. "So, they had a _business_ dinner last night. Then, Mom texted Casey and I last night to say Aunt Bette picked her up from the restaurant and she was spending the night at her house." Her heart began to beat faster as she immediately understood what was going on. "Casey and I even joked it must have been a disaster of a dinner if Aunt Bette needed to go rescue Mom."

"But then?" she asked, prompting her sister to get to the inevitable conclusion.

"I went over there this morning to pick her up." Her eyes drifted off in thought as a rueful smile came to her face. "I even bought coffee and bagels. I thought the three of us could eat and make fun of AJ." She shook her head and looked back up at her. "But, when I got there, Aunt Bette said Mom had never been there." With another deep sigh, she dropped her chin into her hands and sighed. "Mom's phone went straight to voice mail. She wasn't responding to our texts. So, I panicked and called Benjy. We went back to the house to wait. Mom got home an hour after that."

"And?"

Evy's eyes dropped as she murmured, "She looked like what you'd imagine: a complete train wreck."

She nodded, but said nothing, as she held Rory close. Dozens and dozens of memories flashed before her eyes. Memories she never thought she'd need to revisit ever again. When Mom would come home reeking of liquor. When Mom smelled of cologne Daddy didn't wear. When Mom was arrested for driving drunk. When Mom drank until her words slurred. When Mom was barely conscious and she needed to help drag her to the first-floor guest room. When Mom and Daddy fought, their screaming echoing throughout the house. "What did you say when you confronted her?" Because _of course_ Evy confronted her. She had Daddy's temper.

Her face fell as she said, "I shouted at her. She told me to get out of her sight."

Instantly, the past months of frustration and irritation with her younger sister fell to the wayside. "Oh, Evy. I'm sorry." Mom never liked it when she or Daddy would call her out on her binges. She always got defensive and lashed out. Sean was the only one who never questioned her and, therefore, stayed in her good graces. "I'm so sorry you saw that."

Evy shrugged and rubbed her face. "Was this what it was like with her before? When she drank?"

It hurt her heart to nod. Hurt her heart that Evy was introduced to who their mother used to be. "Evy, do you think she was-"

"I don't think she was drinking," she muttered, her eyes full. "Truly, Cait. I believe she's _painfully_ sober." With a lick of disgust in her tone, she continued, "That means Dad's been dead for four months and Mom is already moving on. With AJ-fucking-Deschanel of all people."

AJ-fucking-Deschanel. Evy _truly_ was like Daddy in every way. "You know," she said as drew a receiving blanket over her sleeping daughter, "I dated his son for a few months when I was in college. Cole. He was the reason why I chose Paris for my study abroad."

A wicked smirk danced across her sister's expression. "Oh, yeah. The jewel thief. Dad used to speak so fondly of him."

She laughed softly and readjusted the phone so it was closer. Suddenly, the desire to be as close as possible to Evy was all-consuming. "Sounds right." Evy's laugh echoed across the video and she felt a piece of herself snap back into alignment. "Daddy was a huge fan of his," she giggled as Evy wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Excuse me. This is Trump's America now. I think you meant to say Dad was a _YUGE_ fan of the jewel thief."

She groaned and shook her head. "Ugh, don't start with that." Their eyes met in the screen and they giggled again in unison. With a deep sigh, she admitted, "I've missed you, Evy."

Evy leaned closer to the screen and she could see how puffy her brown eyes were. "Me too, Cait. I don't even remember _why_ we're fighting."

Shame clouded her and she admitted, holding Rory tight, "I'm jealous."

"Wait. What? Jealous? Of _me_?"

With a bashful shrug, she looked down at her sleeping daughter's still face as she admitted, "You got to drop everything and fly home to be with Mom. I wanted to too. I wanted to be there for her…and I couldn't."

"Cait! Oh my God! You were pregnant and on bedrest!"

With a slight shake of her head, she turned back to her sister and saw her incredulous expression. "I wanted to be there. You were. Casey was. Sean went home several times."

"Caitlin Salinger, I absolutely _refuse_ to let you keep beating yourself up over this. So, stop. Ok?"

Just. Like. Daddy. She nodded and whispered, "I love you, Evy."

She beamed. "I love you too, Cait." A moment later though, her expression shifted and she stared straight into the camera. "What do I do about Mom? How do I face her? I can't stay at Benjy's forever!" She cupped her face and sighed. "I was really so sure I'd be able to help Mom. But, now…well, I just don't know."

"Listen, Evy," she began, wishing she was at her sister's side instead of hours away. "Mom and Daddy were in love. They spent their entire adult lives together. They had us. They had so many good years, but a lot of awful ones too." Her younger sister nodded, but said nothing else as she continued, "Charlie and I haven't gone through nearly everything Mom and Daddy did. But, I know that if something happened to me, I wouldn't want Charlie to be alone for the rest of his life."

"Caitlin, don't talk like that!"

"But, I have to Evy. Because I've had four months of thinking about what Mom must be going through. Four months of thinking about how horrible it is for her to live without Daddy. Four months to realize I don't want her to live a sad and shut-in life. She'll be 62 in November and her life is _not_ over." Her sister looked at her, but said nothing. "It's going to be hard. Weird. Awkward. Uncomfortable. But, at some point, Mom was always going to start dating again."

Evy rolled her eyes. "But, AJ Deschanel, Cait? I mean, Dad _hated_ him!"

She nodded. "Hard and uncomfortable. Remember?"

She frowned and retorted, "Dad's only been dead for four months!"

"Maybe it's just a reaction of the grief?" she suggested. "I mean, Charlie's dad remarried ten months after his mom died."

"Charlie's parents aren't Mom and Dad," she muttered.

"No. No, they're not. But, as uncomfortable as this is, we'll get through this, Evy. Together." Because she was a wife and mother, like Mom. Even though Charlie was still alive, she knew how it would upturn her life if he was gone forever. And, because she owed it to Mom. After her childhood years, when she had taken Daddy's side in their marital war, she needed to repay her for the years of unfair judgement and resentment. When she decided Daddy was the hero and Mom was the troublesome villain. But, Daddy was just as much to blame as Mom was for all of their problems. She had chosen sides.

She wouldn't do that to Mom again.

* * *

 _Olivia_

"Well?" The silence of my study consumed me as I waited for Morris to reply.

He sighed and leaned forward over his knees with his head in his hands. "Again."

I sighed as Pancake shifted in my lap. "AJ said he remembered how much I liked the opera." By now, on my fifth recitation of the conversation with AJ, my throat didn't tighten. My voice didn't shake. I was able to say, without any kind of emotional reaction, "I didn't go to the opera for the first time until after Gregory and I were married. He took me to _La bohème_ on our honeymoon." I met Morris' eyes as I concluded, "AJ remembers something about me he couldn't possibly remember."

He sighed. "Maybe it was something Bette mentioned? However casually?"

I shook my head. "No, I called her. After she read me the riot act for using her as an alibi without giving her a heads up, I asked her about everything she told AJ about me."

"And?"

"Nothing," I said flatly, stroking Pancake's head. "She said other than constantly asking how I was doing, the only other thing he asked was if I would go the town's centennial ball with her as his guest."

He nodded and braced his hands on his knees as he pushed himself up with a deep exhale. "So, he had you investigated. You and Greg both. He knows things about you. He knew where you and Greg were going to be in Florence. What your plans were." My eyes narrowed, the implication sinking in as he concluded, "He's been planning this – whatever _this_ is – for months. Maybe longer."

A cold numbness settled into my bones as I whispered, "He murdered Gregory."

"And, that is why you will _not_ continue using yourself as bait."

I met his serious gaze as I replied, "I need proof, Morris. I'm going to the opera with AJ tomorrow night." There was no way Morris could expect me to just walk away. Not now.

"Shit," he muttered as he rubbed the furrowed space between his eyebrows. He rolled his head from side-to-side and I heard the way several bones loudly popped. "Then, you're going in with the wire-"

"But, all you'll hear is Puccini!"

"-and a tracking device! The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion isn't _Grenadine's_! It's an enormous concert hall and I'll have no clear way to watch you!"

I rolled my eyes. "Morris, this is ridic-"

"Goddamn, Olivia! The man _killed_ Greg!" My lips pressed into a thin line as Pancake lifted her head at the sound of his bellow. But, she and I were the only ones who did. Evy was God-knows-where and Casey and his family were on their way to the cabin in Tahoe. "He could've killed you in that accident too and- are you listening?" I nodded and he continued, his voice dropping to a tense whisper, "There is _nothing_ stopping him from trying again."

A fuzzy memory of the weeks I spent in the Italian hospital came back to me. The pain. The medication. The confusion. The heavy numbness as I realized Gregory wasn't coming to my side. The fear in Casey and Sean's eyes.

The fear in Morris' eyes now. "If anything happened to you, I-"

I cleared my throat and whispered, "I'll wear the tracking device."

He inhaled sharply. "Thank you." He collapsed back onto the sofa and rubbed the back of his neck. I watched him carefully, seeing the bleary exhaustion on his face. It had been a late and stressful night for him too. "Hey. Why did Bette read you the riot act?"

With a grimace, I scratched Pancake's neck as I said, "Evy found out I wasn't with her last night. She thinks I was with AJ."

He swore beneath his breath and shook his head. "And, of course, you explained to your daughter that you _weren't_ with AJ." I merely looked at him, letting my silence serve as my response. He groaned dramatically. "Why, Olivia?" Why are you letting your kids think you're seeing AJ?"

Pancake sat up and leaned against my chest, her head turning into my neck. "Because AJ killed their father. Because he almost killed me. AJ can't suspect we know the truth. Their anger at me gives them deniability. They truthfully know nothing about what I'm doing." I hugged the dog a bit closer as I murmured, "Knowing nothing will protect them from AJ."

* * *

 _A/N #2: The lyrics Olivia and Morris hear in the car are from "Moondance" (written by Van Morrison)._


	20. Romance with You

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Twenty: "Romance with You"

 _Bette_

"How about this one?"

As expected, Olivia glanced up and almost immediately shook her head. She bit back a sigh and returned the unchosen dark red dress back to the depths of Olivia's walk-in closet. "What time does this opera start?" she called out.

"Eight."

She glanced down at her watch and rolled her eyes. There wasn't much time then, not when you thought about the time it would take to drive into L.A. "We better get a move on then," she called out, forcing a jovial tone. Not that it did anything to rouse Olivia from her melancholy. "What time is the car service picking you up?

As she walked back out with another dress option, she heard Olivia murmur, "Morris, not the service."

She balked. "Morris is driving you? Is he going to the opera too?"

"Of course not."

"So…so…so, he's just driving you?" Olivia's head turned slowly as their eyes met for a long moment. With a barely-there shrug, she nodded slightly before she turned back to the window. Hmm. One of these days, she _really_ needed to get Olivia to open up more about all the time she was spending with Morris. Gregory's oldest friend or not, there was _something_ going on with them. But, that day was _not_ today. She gently laid the royal blue gown at the foot of the bed before she moved to the window. "Does he know you're going to the opera with AJ?"

"Doesn't everyone by now?" Olivia's arms were folded tight against her chest as she gazed through the glass.

"Not everyone. I didn't include it as a blind item in my Instagram story," she teased. But, Olivia's only reaction was to glance over, her brow furrowed. "Joke, Toots. Just a joke." She reached out and wrapped her left arm around Olivia. "Evy still out?"

"Out? That implies she comes and goes. Evy hasn't been home since yesterday." Olivia's deep sigh echoed between them as she raised her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. "At least she responded to my text message to say she was staying at Benjy's."

She rubbed her arm, feeling somewhat at a loss. Her own child was as foreign to her as living in another country. Emily had been lost to her for _decades_. She didn't know what this felt like: to be stunned into silence when you quarrel with your daughter so badly, she leaves home and flees to her boyfriend's. "I'm sure it's been tough," she said softly, swallowing her own regrets about Emily. "You and Evy have been thick as thieves her entire life. You've never really had to argue with her before."

Olivia cleared her throat and she felt her shiver a moment later. "I should have just told her where I was," she said softly. "I should have told her the truth."

"Listen, Toots, it was never going to be easy. When she realized AJ was interested in you. That you were seeing him."

Olivia flinched and turned to her. "I'm _not_ 'seeing' him."

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she followed Olivia into the bathroom. She leaned against the counter as Olivia sat at her vanity and reached for one of the palettes of eye shadow. "It's not easy," she said softly. "It's not easy to make the transition from grieving widow to a widow who lives her life. Who finds romance. With you though-"

She watched Olivia's eyes flicker to hers in the mirror's reflection. "I _am_ grieving," she insisted sharply. A moment later, her expression fell as she turned back to the mirror and brushed the makeup onto her eye lids. "I will grieve Gregory until the day I _die_."

"But, you're still alive now. AJ's always carried a torch for you. It's-" Olivia shook her head as she trailed off, quickly applying some light makeup. It's not surprising that AJ's back in your life, she thought to herself. It's not surprising that Evy would have such a volatile reaction to finding out you spent the night with him. It's not surprising that you're deflecting now. "So, what do you call it then? If it's not 'seeing' him?"

She inhaled sharply as she blended the blush into her cheek bones. "It's just…"

She watched as Olivia gently placed the makeup brush on the vanity table and looked at her through the reflection. Her expression was full, frown lines deepened and accentuated by the sorrow churning within her. "I'm not judging you," she whispered, moving to stand behind her. Olivia blinked away the shine of unshed tears as she shook her head. "Seeing him. Sleeping with him. Dating him. Whatever you want to label it," she continued as she wrapped her arms around her and squeezed gently, "I'm still your best friend. And, I still love you."

Olivia gasped back a sob and turned around, throwing her arms around her. "Bette," she whispered, hugging her close, "I don't know what I'd do without you." She pulled back slightly and looked up, a weepy half-smile cresting on her lips for the briefest of moments. "AJ and I- I mean, what I'm-"

"Olivia, you don't need to explain anything to me."

"But-"

"I'm really not surprised," she continued over her protests. "After all, you haven't been far from AJ's thoughts since he came back. He asks about you all the time."

"Does he?" she murmured, pausing for a long moment before she turned back to the mirror.

She shrugged and straightened up as Olivia reached for the eye liner pencil. "In hindsight, he went out of his way to be low-key and casual about it. Men and their egos. Always worried about being rejected." Something that sounded like a chuckle rose from Olivia's throat, but her expression suggested nothing of amusement. "Evy will be ok though," she continued and she saw Olivia flinch. "She just needs…time." With a long and deep exhale, Olivia tossed the eye liner aside and reached for the tube of lipstick. She narrowed her eyes, watching the way Olivia's hand trembled as she applied the makeup to her lips. "She will, Toots. Trust me."

Olivia slowly screwed the cap back onto the lipstick as she shook her head. "You weren't there," she murmured. "You didn't see how disgusted she was." She stood, smoothing out her black slip. "How furious she was."

"She's not even 20 yet, Toots. She doesn't understand what this like."

"What what's like?" she asked sharply, turning back in the doorway.

A long heartbeat went by. "The loneliness, Olivia. Loneliness."

Olivia's brow furrowed again before she turned and went back into the bedroom. "I'm not wearing this," she said, carrying the royal blue gown back to the closet.

She always was good at changing the subject, she thought as she listened to the sounds coming from the closets. Hangers clanging against the racks. Fabric of all kinds from different gowns and dresses rustling against one and other. "I'm sure AJ won't care what you wear," she called out. "He'll be delighted regardless."

"I'm sure he would be," Olivia said, walking out of the closet with a simple black cocktail dress. Of course, she didn't want any of the other dresses, she realized. Every dress she suggested was in a vibrant color. Olivia had worn nothing but black since Gregory died. "That's nice," she said, smiling brightly as Olivia slipped it from the hanger. "Audrey Hepburn would approve."

"Can you get me the black beaded clutch from the middle shelf?" she asked as she stepped into the dress. _I am grieving_. She found the purse Olivia wanted and came back out. Olivia stood in front of the mirror, twisting her hair into a low chignon and stabbing it with bobby pins to hold it in place. "Thank you. Can you put my pills in it? I don't want to forget them."

She nodded, finding the prescription bottle of mild pain killers on the triple dresser. "Shoulder been acting up?" she asked.

Olivia nodded as she gave the bun a gentle pat, checking to be sure it was secure. "More recently, especially in the evenings."

She held out bag and stood behind her, zipping up her dress. Olivia whispered her thanks before she glanced over her shoulder and said, "AJ and I are nothing. Do you understand? _Nothing_."

Nothing. "Sure, Toots," she agreed as she fastened the hook-and-eye clip at the top of the zipper. In addition to the art of changing subjects, Olivia had also always been a master at denial. If Olivia wanted to refer to her budding relationship with AJ as "nothing", who was she to judge?

* * *

 _Morris_

If there was one thing he hated, it was driving to L.A. If there was a second thing he hated, it was driving to L.A. during evening rush hour. If there was a third thing he hated, it was driving to L.A during Saturday evening rush hour.

But, despite all that, there was _no_ way he was letting Olivia be dependent on AJ for a ride home after the opera. He glanced up at the rearview mirror, checking on her. She was sitting quietly in the backseat on the passenger side, gazing out the tinted window. He insisted on it. If he was playing the part of her chauffeur tonight, he needed to look the part. And, so did she – _even_ if she rolled her eyes as he held open the car door for her.

He cleared his throat and asked, "You remembered the prescription bottle, right?" It wasn't the bottle or even the pills inside he cared about. But, it was the deceptively ordinary childproof cap that had his attention. His acquaintance at Mossad provided one that had a false panel at the top. A thin one, one just large enough to hold the tiny tracking device. He could track Olivia to within 10 feet anywhere on the planet.

"I did." A moment later, he heard the tell-tale rattle of her pain killers against the bottle as she shook it.

The engine of Greg's Jaguar rumbled as the traffic began moving and he slowly accelerated. "Do me a favor? Make sure AJ sees you take a pill at some point. Early on in the evening, if you can."

He felt her eyes on him, the intensity of her stare reverberating in the car's interior. "Will that activate the tracker?"

"No. Tracker's already on. You don't need to do anything. But, it'll just set the stage early for while you'll always have them with you."

"But, you know where we'll be tonight. Row _and_ seat."

He shook his head as he glanced at his left blind spot and slipped into a gap in the faster moving lane next to them. "Tonight, the opera." He looked back up at the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes. "Who knows where next time?"

She nodded and pushed herself forward, the shawl slipping from her shoulders. "Morris," she said softly as she pressed against the back of the passenger seat, "I- I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" he asked, tapping on the brakes as the stop-and-go traffic came to a complete stop.

"Tell AJ he was right. I can't tell him Gregory turned me into an alcoholic." He turned slightly as she said, "I've tried to practice saying it and I nearly vomited."

"Olivia-"

"If I do this, it will be _betraying_ Gregory." Her eyes fell and she exhaled deeply before she murmured, "Just like Evy accused me of doing."

His left hand continued to grip the steering wheel as he reached up with his right hand to take hold of hers. "You're just letting him _think_ he's right about what he said about Greg. Just to get rid of any suspicions he might have about why you stormed out of _Grenadine's_ , but are still cozying up to him."

She shook her head and gasped, "I can't do it. I _can't_."

He squeezed her hand and she looked back up at him. "You can. Listen to me: 'You were right, AJ. About everything. It was difficult to hear someone say aloud, but you were right.' If you can _just_ say that, it will be enough."

Her eyes fluttered shut, but she otherwise didn't move. He glanced back at the road, inching the car forward. A moment later, he felt her hand squeeze his and he turned back to her. He felt his cheek tingle, the cheek she kissed the other night. He cleared his throat, forcing _that_ sensation and memory away as he looked closely at her. The diamond necklace glittering at her throat underscored how pale she was as she shook her head. "Have you seen _Tosca_ , Morris?"

"Never much cared for the opera. It just sounds like…noise."

With a sad smile, she opened her eyes and looked straight at him. "You sounded like very much like Gregory just now," she murmured. He sat quietly, feeling as if any response would be the wrong response. "But, it _is_ noise – beautiful noise. _Bel canto_." Slowly, she pulled her hand away from his and returned to her corner of the back seat. But, he still sat half-wrenched in the seat, riveted as she continued quietly, "Floria Tosca kills the man who tortures and, eventually, murders the man she loves." A chill raced down his spine as she turned her gaze back to the window as she concluded, "Perhaps life _should_ imitate art."

"Olivia," he began gravely as a sinking feeling twisted in his gut, "you can't possibly-"

"Can't I?" she murmured, one eyebrow arched as she turned back to him. Every nerve ending shot fire as a burning heat undulated through him. His mouth went dry and he moved to lick his lips, but he was frozen solid. The car's interior swelled in the silence, Olivia's question thundering in the small space. He blinked as she continued to sit there calmly before the tiniest of smirks bloomed on her lips. "Don't worry, Morris. I won't kill AJ."

He felt his heart thump back to life as he continued to watch her. Despite the smirk, he could see the hardened ice in her blue irises. He couldn't help but hear the unspoken word in her attempt to placate him.

I won't kill AJ…yet.

* * *

 _Olivia_

"Two sparkling waters," AJ announced as he joined me at the railing. With just a few minutes to curtain, I couldn't bear to sit next to him longer than necessary. Luckily, he obliged without complaint when I suggested we stay in the lobby before finding our seats. "Alas, San Pellegrino, not Perrier."

I took the flute and gently clinked it against his. "Sadly, not everything can be French."

"It is a pity," he agreed, failing to realize my comment was thinly veiled sarcasm.

I nodded blandly and sipped the chilled water, trying to remember if there were one or two intermissions in _Tosca_. It didn't matter. This evening was going to be an exercise in torture. Forcing a smile to my face, I held my water back out to him. "Would you hold this for a moment? I need to take something before the opera begins."

"Everything alright?" he asked.

With quick nod, I opened my clutch and took out the prescription bottle. With a twist and pinch, the cap came right off. Just like a real one would. "My right scapula was fractured in the car crash." I glanced up as a I shook two pills into my palm. His expression suggested genuine concern. Concern over an injury I sustained in a car crash _he_ orchestrated. I cleared my throat before I placed the pills in my mouth and dropped the bottle back into my clutch.

As I took my flute back and sipped, he asked, "Is it very painful?" A moment later, he stepped slower with a frown as his hand grazed my left one.

"Every moment of every day," I replied sharply, watching him over the glass. I watched him over the glass, the hum from the surrounding crowd in the lobby falling away. My shoulder. My daughter's disgust. My life without Gregory. Was there _really_ a difference? There was nothing but pain now. Sharp and unavoidable pain.

His frown deepened as he stepped even closer, taking my hand. "I'm so _sorry_ to hear that," he murmured. His grip increased slightly and a shudder went through me as I took a slight step back. Away from him. The railing bumped into my lower back and I sighed, resigned. There was nowhere else to go. Except over the ledge, I realized as I thought of Tosca's flying leap off the Castel Sant'Angelo at the end of the third act. "To better days," he concluded, lightly clinking his glass against mine.

"Yes," I agreed. Much better days. Gently, I pulled my hand from his and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch burned by palm and it felt like a betrayal. One of the many sins I felt I was committing tonight. But, this was for Gregory. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. _Still_. With a quick inhale, I reached back and took his hand. Ignoring the tremor that went through me, I stepped closer and looked up at him. His expression registered surprise and his blue-gray eyes widened. "Thank you for tonight," I said softly.

He beamed and I swore he stood taller as he squared his shoulders. "It's my pleasure," he replied as he straightened his tie. He placed his flute on the ledge and then my own, before his now-free hand came to my hip. I forced a smile, remembering the way it felt when Gregory would hold onto my hips as I pressed myself against him. "I want nothing more than to make you happy, Olivia. To see you smile again."

This was for Gregory. "You don't treat me the way everyone else does," I murmured as he stepped closer, just a thin plane of air between our chests. "Like a grieving widow," I continued as my left hand followed a gentle path up his arm. My eyes fluttered shut, remembering the way it felt to wrap my arms around Gregory's neck and the way his arms would enfold me. "You treat me like Olivia." Gently, I opened my eyes and instantly lost myself in Gregory's brown eyes. In the way he looked back at me, a small smile dancing across his normally stern expression. My throat tightened as I leaned in, my palm against his cheek as I pressed my lips to his. Gregory's hands cupped my face as he drew me in, ever closer until nothing separated us. "Olivia, the woman," I whispered against his lips.

This was for Gregory.

The lobby lights dimmed and came back up, signaling the impending start of the opera. I pulled back, my lips burning as AJ's satisfied smirk seared into my memory as he sighed my name. I couldn't say what Morris suggested as benign and vague as it was. But, I could do _this_. "Thank you for reminding me who she used to be, AJ."

This was for Gregory.

Tears burned my eyes and I blinked rapidly as he leaned back in, his lips hard and eager against my own. I forced a low moan from my throat as his hands gripped my upper arms, my shawl wrinkling beneath his fingers. "And who Olivia will be again," he whispered as his hands slid down my arms to my hands. A moment later, a rakish grin lit up his face as he brought my hands to his lips and kissed them. "Beginning tonight."

This was for Gregory. With a bashful chuckle and a matching smile, I linked my arm through his as he escorted me to the door of the theater. I glanced down at my chest, knowing the small listening device was attached to my bra. Even with the background noise of the lobby, Morris had to have heard some of what I said. What I did. I shook my head, not wanting the program the usher offered. Instead, I walked down the shallow steps to our seats in the front row of the balcony. My arm entwined with AJ's. Feeling like a prisoner being paraded in triumph through the streets of Rome by Caesar.

This was for Gregory.

I sighed and sat down, drawing my shawl up tight over my shoulders as if it could shield me from AJ. A moment later, he took my right hand and squeezed gently. "I hope you enjoy tonight," he said as the familiar sounds of the orchestra warming up surrounded us.

I only smiled in reply and a moment later, the house lights dimmed to black. In the murky dark, I felt my face collapse as a shaky breath rose in my throat. This was for Gregory. This was for Gregory. Gregory. Gregory. GregoryGregoryGregoryGregory. My heart thundered in sync with his name and I took a deep breath, mouthing his name as I exhaled slowly. I slipped my left hand beneath my shawl and began to rub the bands of my engagement and wedding rings. A moment later, the conductor walked into the pit and the customary applause from the audience greeted him. Except from AJ and I…because he didn't let go of my hand. I stared grimly at the stage as the curtain rose and the opening notes of Puccini's dramatic score reverberated in the theater's acoustics.

This was for Gregory.


	21. You Just Tremble

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

* * *

 _A/N: This chapter contains references to my earlier story, "The Way They Used to Be"._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: "You Just Tremble"

 _Three Weeks Later_

 _Evy_

The clash of loud voices made her grimace and roll over, glaring at the sunlight invading the guest house. Benjy left the curtains open. Again. She groaned and pushed herself up, the sheets whistling as she kicked them down to the foot of the bed.

 _"So, she's living here now? Is that it?"_

 _"No, Evy's not living here. She-"_

 _"So, she hasn't stayed in my guest house every night for the last few weeks?"_

She rubbed her face awake, blinking her swollen eyes as she heard Benjy retort, _"Your guest house? Dad, anytime you want to join the conversation is fine with me."_

 _"What Meg means,"_ she heard Ben begin as she drew her knees up to her chest, _"is that the situation is…delicate."_

 _"Flowers are delicate. Babies are delicate. Evy and I have been dating for almost three months! Our situation isn't delicate!"_

She smiled to herself and wrapped her arms around her legs. A moment later, Meg's voice exclaimed, _"And, just what kind of example are you setting for your younger sisters?"_

 _"Oh, come on! It's summer! Lizzie and Emma are wrapped up in their own lives and, I can assure you, have zero interest in who enters and leaves_ _my_ _guest house!"_

 _"Ben!"_

 _"Dad! We talked about this! We had an understanding that I was an adult and wasn't going to be subjected to anyone's Puritan rules!"_

 _"_ _Excuse_ _me?"_

 _"I'm prepping for the LSAT. I'm working at Liberty. Other than that, I'm essentially paying my own way. We agreed those were the_ _only_ _conditions of me living here."_

 _"I'm going back in the house! Fix this, Ben!"_

She sighed deeply and swung her legs over to the side, standing with another deep sigh. Glancing around, she saw Benjy's UC Berkley sweatshirt hanging from the knob of the dresser drawer. She reached out, shrugging into it as she heard Benjy ask, _"Well, Dad?"_

 _"I'll talk to her. The girls are fine. If Will's behavior hasn't educated them far beyond their years, then Evy staying here certainly won't. But son, listen to me…"_ She padded over to the door and leaned against the wall, still unseen but openly eavesdropping. _"You don't want to put yourself in the middle of whatever drama is occurring with the Richards family. Trust me. I was Gregory's business partner for more than 20 years. It's better to stay out of_ _whatever_ _is going on with them."_

She rolled her eyes and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Everyone always had opinions about other people's drama. Especially _her_ family's. _"Dad, I'm not 'in it'. I'm just giving my girlfriend a place to sleep."_ She beamed, still not bored with the bubbly sensation in her stomach when Benjy referred to her as "his girlfriend". _"I promise. This isn't going to get in the way of the development project."_

Several long moments of silence and she stepped closer to the French door, wondering if they had gone back into the house. _"I'm not worried about the project, son. I'm worried about_ _you_ _."_

 _"I'm fine, Dad. I promise. Just…can you keep Meg off my back?"_ She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she heard Benjy say, _"Thanks, Dad."_

She combed her blonde hair with her fingers as she moved away from the door and wandered over to the wet bar. Benjy's had it set up to double as the kitchen area and she dropped a pod into the Keurig and placed a mug beneath the spout. She glanced up when the French door opened and Benjy came in. "You went running without me?" she announced as she coffee machine groaned and sputtered.

He came around the counter, his arms around her before he kissed her. "Only because you didn't wake up when _I_ got up!" She giggled against his lips, her arms wrapped around his neck as he continued, "You didn't even stir when I stubbed my toe on the dresser and swore."

"Poor Benjy," she murmured, kissing him again. She wanted to get it over with, so her fingers danced through his hair at the nape of his neck as she said, "It sounded like things ended ok with you and Ben."

He rolled his eyes even as he nodded. "Yeah. Dad's fine. Meg's in one of her…moods. But, Dad's fine."

"Good." He cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes, making her shiver. "I don't want to cause any problems between you and him."

"Evy-" he began and she shook her head.

"Don't 'Evy' me," she said, reaching up to take his hands. It was the saddest of ironies that Benjy was finally building a close relationship with his father at the same moment she was learning to live in a world without hers. With a quick smile to cover the sorrow, she squeezed his hands before she turned for the steaming mug of coffee.

"Everything's fine with me and Dad," he whispered in her ear as he hugged her from behind. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him, snug in his embrace as she clutched the mug to her chest. "And, _I_ want things to be fine with you and Olivia too."

"Not now," she replied softly as she opened her eyes and took a deep sip of coffee. "I'm not properly caffeinated yet."

His lips tickled her ear as he whispered, "You love your mom. You know you do." She narrowed her eyes, listening, as he continued, "You were devastated when she barely spoke to you for a few days after she found out about Colombia. You've given her the same treatment for several _weeks_. How do you think she feels?"

A long beat of silence went by as his thoughtful question reverberated in her soul. It had been weeks. She cleared her throat as she raised the mug to her mouth. "Casey says she has dinner every night with AJ. She can't be too broken up about how things are between us."

He sighed and she had the distinct impression she had let him down with her reply. "Ok." His hands found her shoulders and he squeezed gently. "I've got a meeting with my study group at 10. What are we doing after?"

She shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. "Casey texted me late last night, after you went to bed. He wants us to come over, hang out at the house with him, Di, and the kids. Stay for dinner."

"And, Olivia?"

"Maybe. If AJ shows up for dinner though," she huffed, "I'm gone." Her jaw clenched, just imagining AJ Deschanel walking through Dad's home.

He sighed again, but said nothing else except to ask, "So, we'll go over when I get back from group?"

She put the mug aside and turned around, hugging him. "Let's have lunch before we go over. Just you and I."

She closed her eyes as he hugged her back, his arms tight around her, and he whispered, "Perfect."

* * *

 _Olivia_

"How's the shoulder?" Natasha asked.

I shrugged as much as the face-down position would allow and murmured, "When I wake up at three in the morning, I consider how good it would feel to cut off my right arm." A memory of my mother in her small kitchen in London, hacking through a chicken with her meat cleaver, instantly came to mind. "The doctor says my right shoulder is as arthritic as a 90-year-old's.

"So," she replied after a moment as her fingers gently, but firmly, dug into a tender spot in my lower back, "pretty shitty, then?"

"I suppose you could say that." I closed my eyes as I inhaled sharply, feeling the pressure and pain reach a boiling point before it released.

"Just breathe through it," I heard her say encouragingly. "Wow. You are _full_ of trigger points today. You just tremble no matter what area I work. _What_ have you been up to since our last appointment?"

Charades.

Manipulations.

Lies.

Whoring myself out to the man who murdered my husband.

"Nothing special," I murmured. I inhaled deeply, taking in the delicate scent of the lavender essential oil wafting from the face cradle. "Nothing at all."

Just daily nights out with AJ.

Dinners that lasted for hours.

Laughing at his flat jokes.

Feigning attraction to him.

Leaning into his embrace.

Responding to kisses.

Letting his hands roam my body.

Staving off his attempts to get me into his bed.

My eyes open slightly, instantly thinking of two nights ago. AJ's frisky hands had danced a little too close to the wireless microphone clipped to my bra. I had frozen and all but jumped away from him, which was next-to-impossible to do, given the confined space of the chauffeured car's backseat. My thundering heartbeat had echoed in my ears as terror flooded my veins. AJ's confusion lasted only a moment before I had managed to force a chuckle from my throat and whispered, "Careful with my shoulder". Then, I had erased any of his confusion and questions as I slipped my leg over his and guided his hands to my hips, away from my bra.

"Well, whatever 'nothing' is, it's got you tied up in knots. Literally. We should talk about some holistic ways to lower your stress."

"You sound like my daughter-in-law," I replied as I closed my eyes again. "She sends me all kinds crystals and bundles of sage. I don't know what to do with any of it."

"Has she sent palo santo yet?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe," I hissed as her fingers dug into another tender spot. "I keep it all in a box in my office."

"Let's look at it later. You should seriously consider using some of it." Her hands stilled for a moment, resting in the small of my back. When I heard her take a deep breath and exhale slowly, I opened my eyes and gazed curiously at the floor. "Your chakras could use balancing too. I'm certified in reiki, if you're interested."

Natasha would get along _splendidly_ with Shasta, I decided. "Perhaps we can talk about it next time," I sighed, closing my eyes again.

"Of course." A moment later, a comfortable silence swelled in the bedroom as Natasha resumed her battle against the tense muscles and inflamed tendons of my back. But, I knew it was futile. Nothing would take the knots out of my back. Nothing would lower my stress.

Nothing except seeing AJ suffer.

Seeing him pay for his sins.

Seeing him answer for Gregory's murder.

* * *

 _Caitlin_

"Oh my gosh, Casey! Why do you look terrified?" She lowered her iPhone and grinned at her older brother as he shifted Rory in his arms. "If I didn't know you, I would _swear_ you didn't have three of your own kids."

He chuckled nervously and looked up. "Give me a break," he retorted, his tone light for the baby's sake. "It's been 12 years since I held a baby."

She rolled her eyes and raised her phone, tapping the icon quickly to get a candid shot as he made a funny face for Rory's benefit. "Hmm. Seems to me it's the perfect time for you and Diana to fix that," she teased.

"Ha! Yeah right. Allie leaves in August for college. Why would Di and I want to start over?"

"Look up and smile!" She beamed at the image framed in the camera before she tapped the icon. Perfect. "Mom and Daddy did," she said softly, watching her brother and daughter through the camera. "Started over, I mean. Evy was seven months old when I came back from Paris for Sean's high school graduation." She swallowed a sigh, remembering how Sean plopped his graduation cap on Evy's head as he held her for one of the many photos Mom insisted he pose for by the school's chapel. It had been ridiculously oversized and slipped down, practically covering her entire face.

"They were far braver than Di and I are," he said quietly, holding Rory up to his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

She nodded and pressed the phone's power button before she shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. "I think about them sometimes and about the huge age gap between Evy and us. But, they were brave. And…they wanted Evy more than anything." With a nervous chuckle, she shook her head and folded her arms against her chest. "But, I couldn't do it either. Start over with a new baby at the same time my other kids were ready to launch."

"The new house feels like a new kid though. So there's that."

She followed Casey over to the sofa and curled up in the corner, watching as Rory's head turned into his neck. "Next week. You excited?"

"Excited to stop writing checks to the contractor? Absolutely."

A shadow moved across his face and she reached out, nudging her foot against his. "And?"

He shrugged and glanced over. "With things between Olivia and Evy not back to normal, I wonder if it's the best time to leave?"

She nodded and hugged a plump pillow to her chest. "You have to live your life, Casey." Her fingers toyed with the fringed tassel as she suggested, "And, you know, Evy's got _all_ of Daddy's temper _and_ Mom's stubbornness. It's a terrifying combination."

"You think?"

They laughed softly together as their eyes met. "She still staying over at Benjy's?"

"Only on the nights Olivia goes out with AJ."

She narrowed her eyes. "So, she's at Benjy's every night?" With a deep exhale, she pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "Mom must _love_ that."

"She won't talk to me about it. About Evy. I tried to, but-"

She leaned over, her hand on his forearm. "It's alright, Casey. You can't force Mom to do something she doesn't want to do. Believe me." His blue eyes darkened with pain as he leaned over, passing the nearly asleep baby back to her. As she cradled her daughter against her, she watched Casey run a nervous hand through his hair. "Thank you for helping me surprise them."

A half-smile danced on his lips as he muttered. "Surprise…that's one word for it."

"Shock, then?" she giggled, running her fingertip over her sleeping daughter's cheek. "Mom will be thrilled to see Rory. Evy too."

He leaned forward over his knees, his hands clasped. "Evy's coming over with Benjy after lunch." He chuckled beneath his breath and continued, "I may or may not have guilt tripped her in my text, but she replied earlier this morning to say she was coming by."

"Good," she said, clutching Rory to her chest. "Won't Mom be surprised when she comes down from her massage to find us here?"

* * *

 _Morris_

"Excited to move into your new house?" he asked as he followed Nicola through the foyer.

She shrugged. "Kind of. I'll miss seeing Nana every day."

He nodded as she stopped in the open doorway to the patio. "I'm sure she'll miss you too. Good thing you'll be just a few streets over so you can walk over anytime, right?"

"I guess." She touched his forearm and looked up at him. He took off his sunglasses and looked down at her. She was 13, but extremely short for her age. Olivia's voice instantly echoed in his mind. _Nicola is_ _petite_ _, Morris. She's_ _not_ _short._ "You'll still come visit her every day, won't you?"

He grinned and put his arm around her, hugging gently. "Of course, I will. Your grandmother and I are friends."

Her only response was to look up at him, her eyes wide. "She's really sad though. She pretends she isn't. But, she is."

He knelt next to her, taking both of her hands within his left one. "Because of Poppop? Or Evy?"

"Both," she whispered. "Everyone pretends that things are fine. But, they're not. They haven't been for a _really_ long time."

" _Hi, Morris!"_

He looked up as Casey's wife, Diana, walked over to them holding a pitcher and empty glass. "Strawberry-lime margarita?"

With a grimace, he shook his head as he pushed himself up. "That's a drink for ladies' night."

She rolled her eyes and muttered as she turned in the direction of the kitchen and muttered, "Ladies' night or not, they're pretty good." Over her shoulder, she called out, "I'll bring you a beer!"

"Thanks!" He glanced back down at Nicola and chucked her chin as he said softly, "Don't worry."

She glanced around, as if she was worried about being overhead, before she leaned in and whispered, "I asked Mom and Dad if I could leave my piano here. That way, I _have_ to come over to practice and I can check on Nana while I'm here."

"Nicola," he began gravely as he saw Olivia out the corner of his eye, "I-"

"Don't tell anyone. Ok?" she asked, her suddenly high-pitched as she smiled widely.

"Morris." Olivia's dark sunglasses were like mirrors as he looked over, feeling Nicola's hand slip from his. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Are _you_ staying for dinner?" His tone was light, his expression jovial. But, he was serious. As serious as anyone could be.

She smiled tightly as she wrapped her arm around Nicola. "Yes. Caitlin is here for a visit. She brought the baby with her."

"Nice surprise," he mused innocently as he followed Olivia down the shallow steps. He wasn't _that_ surprised. Once it became clear that Olivia's nights were occupied with AJ and Evy would not be returning home, he expected both of her older two children to come in from out of town. Casey nodded from the grill as he turned the steaks. The early evening sun glowed against the surface of the pool, making him squint. Hearing laughter, he narrowed his eyes and focused on the two people floating on rafts as Casey's two older children splashed through the water. "Evy's here."

"Yes." Olivia's clipped reply did a barely passable job at masking the anguish in her voice. She cleared her throat and looked down, the tight smile still stretched across her lips. "Why don't you go play in the pool, darling?"

Nicola glanced quickly at him before she nodded and trotted down the steps to the pool. "She's worried about you," he whispered as Olivia sighed and folded her arms against her chest.

"I don't want her worrying about me," she replied softly. "She's too young for that burden."

Pancake scampered over, excitedly jumping up on him. He chuckled and reached down, scratching behind the dog's ears as he heard Olivia continue, "I called AJ earlier to cancel our dinner plans for tonight. He wasn't happy."

"Imagine that," he muttered as the dog settled, deciding he had greeted her sufficiently before she moved to Olivia's side. "What exactly did he say?"

"That he was disappointed, but he understood."

"Did he now?"

She shrugged and glanced over. "I explained that Caitlin surprised us with a visit."

"Well, he wouldn't understand that. He doesn't have a relationship with any of his kids. At least, the kids he's publicly acknowledged." He shook his head as Olivia cleared her throat. It went unsaid that AJ had done the exact _opposite_ of what Gregory had done after finding out about a child he fathered.

She sighed. "Be that as it may, while he feigned understanding, he sounded irritated."

"Of course he was. He's got you as his own private toy and now he has nothing to play with tonight."

He couldn't see her eyes, but he felt the glare crackle between them. "I'm _not_ his plaything," she insisted. "I haven't gone to bed with him!"

"Maybe not, but you've all but suggested you would," he retorted, hearing the heat in his own words. "Do you even _have_ a plan for what you're doing with him? Or are you just playing it minute-by-minute?" Her lips parted as she began to reply, but he plowed on. "And, what are you going to do when he gets annoyed with the games you've been playing the last few weeks? When he stops letting you play hard to get? When he does force you- to-"

"Enough, Morris," she hissed as her voice cracked. She took a deep breath and looked away as he rubbed his mouth, sighing deeply. " _Enough_."

But, it wasn't enough. Not _nearly_ enough. He had hours upon hours of sitting outside of restaurant after restaurant these last three weeks while she dined with AJ to think of an extraction plan for her. Despite the code word, listening to every word they uttered, and tracking Olivia through GPS, there was no way any extraction plan would save her. Not unless he was within five feet of her every moment and she would _never_ let that happen. Just the thought of AJ undressing her… He cleared his throat and abruptly rolled his head, listening to the bones of his neck crack and pop.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," she said softly, her words strained. "Even if you don't."

"You're playing with fire is what you're doing," he hissed, reaching out as his hand wrapped around her wrist. "Fire, Olivia! You're going to get burned and I can't let that happen!"

She looked up slowly, her expressions suddenly drawn as his hand slipped down to hers. Her fingers laced through his as she whispered, "Do you remember years ago? It was the day I gave birth to Sean, but you took me to find Jeannie Harris at the park that morning?" He nodded, his memory instantly flashing to the way Olivia's pained looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. "You trusted me then to do something Gregory nor you wanted me to do."

"You were terrified," he said as he stepped closer, still holding her hand as her shoulders collapsed. "That woman was terrorizing you and Greg and-"

"Trust me now," she pled, squeezing his hand urgently. A warm sensation pulsed up his arm. "Please, Morris. Trust me."

"If anything happens-" he croaked, his voice thick. He didn't want to think of the multitude of things that could happen, of everything AJ could do to hurt her if he suspected she knew he murdered Greg. But, he was tortured with confronting every single possibility every night she went out with AJ.

"Trust. Me. Please?" She nodded and sniffed, almost as if she needed to convince herself as much as she needed to convince him.

" _Everything alright, Mom?"_

They both stepped back, away from each other, as if they had been caught in the middle of a secret. Caitlin had a polite smile on her face as she stood on the bottom step, her infant daughter in her arms. Olivia's hand fell away from his, a sudden emptiness filling him, as she cleared her throat and replied, "Of course, Caity! Darling, do you remember Morris?"

He smiled, remembering the little blonde child she had been once as she walked up the stairs to them. "Sort of?" She laughed beneath her breath as she continued, "I remember Maya from school more though. We connected on Facebook a few years ago, so I feel like I've seen you in pictures she's posted."

He watched as Olivia reached out, taking her youngest granddaughter into her arms. "Clearly, my lectures about Internet privacy went over her head," he joked, though his eyes were on Olivia. The baby was nestled against her chest as she pressed a kiss to her head. "It's nice to see you again," he said as he turned back to Caitlin.

Caitlin only beamed in reply before she turned to her mother. "Mom, let's go sit down by the pool." She glanced over at him and smiled. "You too, Morris."

"We'll be there in a moment, darling. I promise," Olivia replied. Her daughter nodded and went back to the pool, only glancing over her shoulder at them once. "Gregory loved being a father," she murmured, flashing a genuine smile at her youngest granddaughter. "But, he _adored_ being a grandfather. Adored it. And, because of AJ, this little girl won't ever know what it was like to be adored by Gregory." He frowned as she looked up at him and continued, "It breaks my heart that Gregory won't know her. Won't get to see her grow up. Won't get to see _any_ of his grandchildren grow up. Won't get to walk Evy down the aisle at her wedding."

"Olivia," he exhaled, knowing where this was going.

"AJ _has_ to answer for Gregory, Morris. Please, trust me."

* * *

 _Olivia_

Of course I lied to Morris. I was lying to everyone else. Why not him too?

Gregory would be furious if he was here. He was methodical, planning everything down to the tiniest detail. He'd be incensed to know I was rushing recklessly into a plan with AJ that I hadn't planned out to every last detail.

But, this was _for_ him. Gregory was taken from his children. From his grandchildren.

From me.

And, AJ _had_ to pay.


End file.
